29: I am deaf, “bootless” you say, never hearing I’m scorned, despised, all alone for desiring you...

Yet I make a fortune wishing, thinking of you when? when disgraced

Remembering hymns for love rich in hope, wealth, art, a human’s scope.
How all men’s eyes rise at dawn from birth, this outcast state without you, when..
Almost enjoined as to the sullen lark least contented, almost cursed —

Looking on, singing from earth, thinking of you through break of day.