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.

3 comments:
Is that an original poem?
Sorry, Alisa.
That's one of William Shakespeare's sonnets.
He's not bad, though, is he?
Almost as good as "Travelin' Travis," dont'cha think?
Greg
hey, there hasn't been a new post in, like, FOREVER! What, are you fools out in the middle of nowhere or something??? Has the uptown kitchen taken a hye-de-ho down south or summpin?
I lurv ya'll
your no account sister
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