Sonnet XXX
“When in the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrances 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, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh loves long since cancell’d woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight:
Then can I grieve at grievance foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell oe’r
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 restored and sorrows end.” William Shakespeare.
Islander.