That time of year thou mayst in me behold...
Sonnet 73That 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 ruin'd 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, 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. Listen to the recording!Free sample available for this sonnet! Click HERE
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You see me at that stage in life where only a few dried-up leaves hang on my braches and the perching birds shiver at the oncoming cold. I’m in my twilight years: the last glimmers of sunset that’ll soon be swallowed up in darkness, just as Death puts everything to
sleep. The fire you see in me is the ashy remnant of a flame almost spent, destroyed by the very thing that fed it, soon to die out entirely.
You see all this, and it means your love is even greater, because you love something which you know you’ll have to leave behind soon.