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,
Featured like him, like him with friends
possest,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's
scope,
With what I most enjoy contented
least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost
despising,
Hoply I think on thee, and then my
state,
Like to the lark at break of day
arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's
gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth
brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with
kings.
