UNLOVED, OUTCAST, AND BITTER

When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

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 remembered such wealth brings

     That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

–William Shakespeare

 

Well, Will, I can relate completely to the first nine lines–but not the last five.  You see, I have no sweet love, remembered or current.  And I likely never will.  There were many in my situation in your time.  Yet there are far more, four hundred five years later–here at the end of the world.

What words of comfort can you give us now?

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