Through flowers and fern she hurries to the tryst,
Love words in softest Tuscan, murmured low,
Pour through the coral of her lips unkissed —
Our pent up passions with the same soul glow!

While on the road, before all passers' eyes,
A rival in love, my master in all art,
Tito Costanza bleeds and prays and dies,
My keen stiletto in his hateful heart.