When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone between my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
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.
William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnet 29.