William Shakespeare



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.

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