Shakespeare Sonnet 28

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How can I then return in happy plight,

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That am debarred the benefit of rest?

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When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,

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But day by night and night by day oppress'd,

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And each, though enemies to either's reign,

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Do in consent shake hands to torture me,

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The one by toil, the other to complain

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How far I toil, still farther off from thee.

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I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,

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And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:

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So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,

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When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even.

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But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,

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And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.