Sonnet XXX

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, unus'd to flow
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe
And moan th' 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