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 the 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.