At heaven’s gate, at break of day,
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think of thee – and then my state
(like 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.
William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnet 29.
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