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| So am I as the rich, whose blessed key, | 1 |
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| Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, |
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| The which he will not every hour survey, |
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| For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. |
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| Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, | 5 |
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| Since, seldom coming in that long year set, |
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| Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, |
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| Or captain jewels in the carcanet. |
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| So is the time that keeps you as my chest, |
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| Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, | 10 |
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| To make some special instant special-blest, |
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| By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. |
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 Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope, |
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| Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope. |
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