Page 149 - 1974

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, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe, And moan th'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 restor'd, and sorrows end.
William Shakespeare
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