How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When days oppression is not easd by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressd,
And each, though enemies to eithers reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexiond night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gildst the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make griefs length seem stronger.
The Sonnets XXVIII - How can I then return in happy plight
William Shakespeare
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