When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of
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,
friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancell’d
And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight:
Then can I grieve at
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of
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.