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
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time
When wasteful war shall statues overturn
And broils root out the work of masonry
Nor Mars his sword, nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory
‘Gainst death, and all oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom
So, till the judgment that yourself arise
You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes
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
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time
When wasteful war shall statues overturn
And broils root out the work of masonry
Nor Mars his sword, nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory
‘Gainst death, and all oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom
So, till the judgment that yourself arise
You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes
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