Oscar Wilde - Sonnet: On the Sale by Auction of Keats' Love Letters lyrics

These are the letters which Endymion wrote To one he loved in secret and apart, And now the brawlers of the auction-mart Bargain and bid for each tear-blotted note, Aye! for each separate pulse of pa**ion quote The merchant's price! I think they love not art Who break the crystal of a poet's heart, That small and sickly eyes may glare or gloat. Is it not said, that many years ago, In a far Eastern town some soldiers ran With torches through the midnight, and began To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw Dice for the garments of a wretched man, Not knowing the God's wonder, or His woe?