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.