Sonnets from the Portuguese 41

I thank all who have loved me in their hearts,

With thanks and love from mine.  Deep thanks to all

Who paused a little near the prison-wall

To hear my music in its louder parts

Ere they went onward, each one to the mart’s

Or temple’s occupation, beyond call.

But thou, who, in my voice’s sink and fall

When the sob took it, thy divinest Art’s

Own instrument didst drop down at thy foot

To harken what I said between my tears, . . .

Instruct me how to thank thee!  Oh, to shoot

My soul’s full meaning into future years,

That they should lend it utterance, and salute

Love that endures, from life that disappears!