So when the sun in bed, / Curtained with cloudy red, / Pillows his chin upon an orient wave.
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud / Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
The low'ring element Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.
Every cloud has a silver lining.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures, Russet lawns and fallows grey, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?