Shakespeare's Sonnet 30

When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI 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 cancell’d woe,And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight:Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,And heavily from woe to woe tell o’erThe 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.

When, in the quiet court of pleasant thought, I call up memories of the past, I sigh over the many things I wanted but never gained. Old troubles make me mourn again the waste of my precious time. Then my eyes, unused to tears, can overflow for dear friends hidden in death's endless night. I can weep again over love's grief, settled long ago, and mourn the loss of many sights now gone. Then I can grieve over troubles long past and sadly count, from sorrow to sorrow, the painful total of grief I have already mourned. I pay that debt again as though I had never paid it before. But if I think of you during this, dear friend, all my losses are restored and my sorrows end.