"The rude rebuffs of bay-besieging winds But make the anchored ships towards them turn, So thy unkindness unto me but finds My love tow’rds thee with keener ardour burn; As myrrh incised bleeds odoriferous gum, I am become a poet through my wrong, For through the sad-mouthed heart-wounds in me come These earthly echoes of celestial song. My thoughts as birds make flutter in my heart, Poor muffled choristers! whose sad refrain Gives sorrow sleep, and bids that woe depart Whose heavy burden weighs upon my strain. Imprisoned larks pipe sweeter than when free, And I, enslaved, have learnt to sing for thee."