Sonnet 29

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 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 heaven’s gate:

For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

When, in disgrace, ashamed to raise my eyes,

I cry, beyond my power to cry,

And curse the sun that will not rise,

And glare at fate, and wonder why,

And wish I were more rich in hope,

Less unknown, more richly blessed,

Better at life, bigger in scope,

Less deprived of what I love the most—

Even in thoughts as dark as these,

Sometimes I’ll think of you,

And like the lark at daybreak, rise

And find something to sing to.

For your love remembered is such a rich thing,

I’d rather have it than be a king.