Shakespeare's Sonnet 52

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key,Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,The which he will not every hour survey,For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,Since, seldom coming in that long year set,Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,Or captain jewels in the carcanet.So is the time that keeps you as my chest,Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,To make some special instant special-blest,By new unfolding his imprison’d pride.Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope,Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope.

I am like a rich man whose precious key gives him access to his beloved, locked-away treasure. He will not look at it every hour, because that would dull the special pleasure of seeing it rarely. That is why celebrations are so grand and so uncommon: scattered through the long year, they are spaced like precious stones, or the finest jewels in a necklace. In the same way, the time that keeps you from me is my treasure chest, or the closet that hides a splendid robe, making some special moment especially joyful when it reveals its hidden glory again. You are blessed: your worth gives me reason to celebrate when you are here, and reason to hope when you are absent.