Sonnet 30

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 restored and sorrows end 

William Shakespeare