Sonnet
73: That Time of Year Thou Mayst in Me
Behold
By William Shakespeare
(1564-1616)
That
time of year thou mayst in me behold
When
yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon
those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare
ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In
me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As
after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which
by and by black night doth take away,
Death's
second self, that seals up all in rest.
In
me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That
on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As
the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed
with that which it was nourish'd by.
This
thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To
love that well which thou must leave ere long.
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