When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes/ I all alone beweep my outcast state,/ And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cires,/ And look upon myself, and curse my fate,/ Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,/ Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,/ Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,/ With what I enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts my self 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 heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings/ That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

- Sonnet XXIX