The speaker likens himself to a rich man who possesses a key to a sweet, locked-away treasure. He deliberately avoids unlocking it every hour, knowing that overuse would blunt the fine edge of that seldom pleasure. Feasts, too, are kept solemn and rare, scattered thinly like precious stones or chief jewels in a necklace. In the same way, the time that separates him from the beloved acts as a chest or a wardrobe—temporarily hiding a prized robe—so that when a special instant comes to unfold it, the moment is magnificently blessed. The speaker’s feeling is not one of deprivation but of tender patience. Absence only deepens the beloved’s worth. The final couplet makes this serene outlook explicit: the beloved’s value is so immense that to have him is to triumph, and to lack him is to live in hope. The mood throughout is intimate, reflective, and quietly radiant, turning longing itself into a treasured state.
Sonnet 52: So am I as the rich, whose blessed key — Summary
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 that 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 lacked, to hope.