Monday, March 12, 2012

Period Pieces

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, unus'd 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 I can 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.

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Merci beaucoup!

 
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