In what garden of error
Is there greater despair
Than the substitute
For love's pure bloom? ...

Which is the open wound
In an immovable ground
That makes of love's a weed
To depart while it bleeds? ...

The lie is disclosed,
Defrauded-exposed...
The diamond-only glass
Which falls from truth-then cracks...

False love-fly from me!
Or I will run away from thee,
While the surface blistered still,
My broken dream-I cannot heal! ...

Silent lie- perish and be gone,
Much of life is yet condone,
When from past shall present borrow,
This burden shall weigh less of sorrow...

Romeo Della Valle

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