Sonnet 30

by William Shakespeare

  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'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.