Sonnet 73

(William Shakespeare)

From the album Rarities

That time of year,

that time of year thou may’st in me behold,

When yellow leaves, or none,

or few do hang upon the boughs

which shake against the cold,

which shake against the cold.

 

Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang;

In me thou see’st the twilight of such a 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,

In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,

 

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the deathbed, whereon it must expire,

Consumed with that which it was nourished by;

This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,

 

To love that well, which thou must leave,

leave ere long.