- 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 cancell’d woe,
- And moan the expense of many a vanish’d 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 restor’d and sorrows end.