Sonnet Xiii:

XIII Perhaps in mercy is the future masked. For who so hardy, if his fate were read, As to abide its coming? Ah, instead Of cloudy hopes in which my heart has basked-- Dim lights, bright shadows, airy fancies, tasked By schooling reason--I might lie half dead, Groaning beneath a ruthless vision spread By that hard knowledge I so rashly asked. For if I saw my love's disastrous end Now laid before my horror-stricken eyes-- That whole fair web of close inwoven ties Torn and disjoined--I would no more contend With fate, but fly it as the coward flies, And at one blow, both love and being rend.