THE SONNETS by William Shakespeare (33)

XXXIII

    Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy； Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace： Even so my sun one early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow； But out！ alack！ he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth； Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.