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| When to the sessions of sweet silent thought | 1 |
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| I summon up remembrance of things past, |
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| I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, |
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| And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: |
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| Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, | 5 |
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| For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, |
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| And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, |
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| And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: |
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| Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, |
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| And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er | 10 |
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| The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, |
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| Which I new pay as if not paid before. |
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 But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, |
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| All losses are restor'd and sorrows end. |
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