In a balcony all their own,
The musicians create divine music.
Violins
sing their melody,
As all the gay folk dance below.

Ladies in
exquisite gowns,
With ornaments in their hair.
Men in fine suits of
varying fashion,
People of all ages rejoice.

The orchestra switches
songs,
However, all goes quiet,
As two young gentlemen and a lady
enter.
Obviously of the gentry, given their air and dress.

The man in
the middle,
Looks arrogant and obstinate.
Incapable of feeling and
expression,
Though we shouldn't judge on appearance.

He is a wealthy
man,
Most often considered proud,
His eye catches a young
lady,
Inferior in birth to him.

For the whole of the ball,
His eyes
are always on her,
Or searching for her,
Her vanity entrancing
him.

Surprisingly, he asks her to dance,
Though words of wit and
anger,
They do say,
But love develops through their hate.

For,
sometimes it is through conflict,
That feelings arouse.
And bitter
hate,
Turns into feverish, undying love.