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.
This is night in Venus and Adonis:
Look! the world's comforter with weary gait