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 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'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.