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, 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








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