1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 52 

1	So am I as the rich whose blessèd key
2	Can bring him to his sweet up-lockèd treasure,
3	The which he will not ev’ry hour survey,
4	For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
5	Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare
6	Since, seldom coming, in the long year set
7	Like stones of worth they thinly placèd are,
8	Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
9	So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
10	Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
11	To make some special instant special blest
12	By new unfolding his imprisoned pride.
13	Blessèd are you whose worthiness gives scope,
14	Being had, to triumph# being lacked, to hope.