Sonnets From The Portuguese XLI
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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 marts
Or temples occupation, beyond call.
But thou, who, in my voices sink and fall
When the sob took it, thy divinest Arts
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 souls full meaning into future years,
That they should lend it utterance, and salute
Love that endures, from life that disappears!