Sonnet 30

When to hte 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 vinished 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 whilr I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.

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