• When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
    I summon up rememberance of things past
    I sight the lack of many a things I sought
    And with old woes, new wails 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 woe,
    And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
    Then can I grieve at grieveances foregone,
    And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
    The 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.