when in disgrace with gortune and men’s eyes



i all alone beweep my outcast state,



and troubledeaf heav’n 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 griends possessed,



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 brEk of day arising



from sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;



for thy sweet love rememb’red such wealth brings,



that then i scorn to change my state with kings