Nature

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 William Shakespeare