Villanelle

They suffer all the pangs of hell, And sip the dregs of human woe, Who love, and are not loved as well.

When first they hear the final knell, Of hopes destroyed at one blow, They suffer all the pangs of hell.

The valiant strive their grief to quell, To cover wounds they dare not show, Who love and are not loved as well.

No matter in what land they dwell, Or where the broken-hearted go, They suffer all the pangs of hell.

While seeking balm that will dispel Their miseries, that dailv grow; Who love, and are not loved as well.

When love is born is hard to tell, When love is dead, the heart will know; They suffer all the pangs of hell, Who love, and are not loved as well.