Sonnets from the Portuguese

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, . . .