William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon vp remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lacke of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new waile my deare times waste;¹

Then can I drowne an eye (vn-vs’d to flow)

For precious friends hid in deaths dateles night,

And weepe a fresh loues long since canceld woe,

And mone th’expence of many a vannisht sight.

Then can I greeue at greeuances fore-gon,

And heauily from woe to woe tell ore

The sad account of fore-bemoned mone,

Which I new pay as if not payd before.

        But if the while I thinke on thee (deare friend)

        All losses are restord, and sorrowes end.

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, unused to flow,

For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,

And weep afresh love’s long since cancelled woe,

And moan th’expense of many a vanished 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 restored, and sorrows end.