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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.
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