When to the sessions of sweet silent thought,I summon up remembrance of things past,I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow)
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,And heavily from woe to woe tell o'erThe sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee (dear friend)
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.
