WHEN to the Sessions of sweet silent thought <br />I summon up remembrance of things past, <br />I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, <br />And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: <br />Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, <br />For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, <br />And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe, <br />And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight: <br />Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, <br />And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er <br />The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, <br />Which I new pay as if not paid before. <br /> But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, <br /> All losses are restored and sorrows end.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-iii/
