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70
SON. 73
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 ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet bird 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 seif, that seals up all in rest:
In me thou see’st the glowing of such flre
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 perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
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