You can handle it.

OK, don't go away. I know it's the scary Mr. S. but it's one of the best sonnets ever written. You can do it. So close your eyes and still your inner rebellious teenager. OK, now open your eyes again. Um...OPEN YOUR EYES. Dang it. You think I could have seen that one coming.

So for those of you who did not still your rebellious natures and kept your eyes open. (No one ever listens!) Here you go.

Wait! One more thing. You'll need your archaic word of the day before you start. Here she is "bootless = absolutely useless."

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,--and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.

W. Shakespeare

(Hey thou, yea thou, thou knoweth who thou art, I thank thee for thy sweet love.)