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
remembered
such
wealth
brings
That
then
I
scorn
to
change
my
state
with
kings