19th Century.

When love was made of different things,
Stronger perseverance, unbreakable strings,
It is now an era long gone by,
And oh my romeo, so I sigh!
It was a path walked often,
But now we don't even listen
To the thumping of our heart;
As our ways, we so easily part.
Remember the eyes that so easily grazed,
And words so genuine were placed,
Into the air that carried forth the feelings,
No incomprehension of honest meanings.
The lover, our utmost desire,
Even if that meant burning alive on a pyre,
They'd bat not eyelids, nor pause for a flash
Of a second; the world in it's entirety couldn't bring a clash
Of the two souls so meant to be,
They'd die loving - they'd die free.

When love was professed as the zenith of
Emotions; not discarded with a dismal cough
It was of fields and sunsets they spoke
The promises they made, never broke
As rivers flowed endlessly into the horizon
It was a pristine and holier liaison
Than the ones we stumble upon these days,
Which is just an infatuation driven haze.
Seas couldn't have separated us then,
Love was a force to reckon with when;
But now tides have swept it all aside,
In a clash of ego and battle of pride.
It is too much to love another,
To devour a love, to cherish a brother.

When love did not bow to the crown,
For there was no fear to drown.
And I would still immeasurably sink down for thee,
If in your love forever, you'd just let me be.

Because; my love is still no mean thing,
It's unrequited passion, an endless string.
For you my beloved, your juliet shall forever sing.