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
times' waste.
Then can i drown an eye in death's
dateless night,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished 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 restored,
and sorrows end.
Sonnet
33
Full many a glorious
morning have i seen.
Flatter the mountain tops
with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face
the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with
heavenly alchemy,
Anon permit the basest
clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his
celestial face,
And from the forlorn
world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west
with this disgrace.
Ev'n so my sun one early
morn did shine
With triumphant
splendor on my brow;
But out alack, he was but
one hour mine;
The region cloud hath
masked him from me
now.
Yet him for this
my love no whit
disdaineth.
Suns of the world
may stain when heav'n's
sun staineth.
Beautiful!
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