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.
(from Sonnet XXIX)
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