What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, <br /> Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, <br /> Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears, <br /> Still losing when I saw myself to win! <br /> What wretched errors hath my heart committed, <br /> Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! <br /> How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted <br /> In the distraction of this madding fever! <br /> O benefit of ill! now I find true <br /> That better is by evil still made better; <br /> And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, <br /> Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. <br /> So I return rebuked to my content <br /> And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-cxix/
