Sonnet 30

　　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，