Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
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.
Sonnet 33: Translation to modern English
I’ve seen so many glorious mornings when the royal sun lights up the mountaintops, kisses the green meadows with its golden face and makes streams shine with its celestial magic. But then it allows the blackest clouds to ride across its heavenly face with ugly gloom, and hides that face from the dull world, sneaking off to the west with the disgrace of it. In just that way my sun shone on my brow early one morning with that same triumphant splendour. But alas, he was mine for only one hour: the dark clouds have hidden him from me now. Yet, my love doesn’t condemn him in the least. The suns of humanity may show their faults if the sun of heaven does.