Sonnet 52

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key

Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure

The which he will not every hour survey,

For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.

Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,

Since, seldom coming, in the long year set,

Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,

Or captain jewels in the carcanet.

So is the time that keeps you as my chest,

Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,

To make some special instant special blest

By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.

      Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope,

      Being had, to triumph; being lack'd, to hope.