Sonnet 73 :
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
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When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
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Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
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Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
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In me thou seest the twilight of such day
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As after sunset fadeth in the west,
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Which by and by black night doth take away,
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Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
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In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
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That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
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As the death-bed whereon it must expire
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Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
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This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
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To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
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2007-05-13
08:53:24
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2 answers
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Anonymous