When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up rememberance of thing 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 canceled woes ,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight.
Then I can grieve at the grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanéd 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. (1609)
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