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By William Shakespeare,


WHEN in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate:

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,

Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least:

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee,-and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heavens gate;

For thy sweet lover remember'd such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

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