I found a note with your name
And a picture of us
Even though it was framed
And covered in dust
It's the map in my mind that sends me on my way.
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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,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoand 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.
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