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 ruind choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Deaths second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumd with that which it was nourishd by.
This thou perceivst, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
The Sonnets LXXIII - That time of year thou mayst in me behold
William Shakespeare
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