The sickness of desire, that in dark days 
Looks on the imagination of despair, 
Forgetteth man, and stinteth God his praise; 
Nor but in sleep findeth a cure for care. 
Incertainty that once gave scope to dream 
Of laughing enterprise and glory untold, 
Is now a blackness that no stars redeem, 
A wall of terror in a night of cold. 
Fool! thou that hast impossibly desired 
And now impatiently despairest, see 
How nought is changed: Joy's wisdom is attired 
Splendid for others' eyes if not for thee: 
Not love or beauty or youth from earth is fled: 
If they delite thee not, 'tis thou art dead.