To R. R. On Rereading the "De Profundis" of Oscar Wilde

Why hadst thou come? Not profit, no: nor pleasure, Nor any faint desire of selfish gain, Had moved thee, giving of thy heart's pure treasure, To share a culprit's pain.

In that drear place, as thou hadst lonely waited To greet with noble friendship one who came Handcuffed from prison, pointed at, and hated, Bowed low in mortal shame,

No thought hadst thou of any special merit, So simple, natural, seemed that action fine Which kept alive, in a despairing spirit, The spark of the divine,

And taught a dying soul that love is deathless, Even as when its holiest accents fell Upon a woman's heart who listened, breathless, By a Samarian well.