That time of year thou mayst in me behold
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 perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
Sonnet Seventy-three
AdminWednesday, September 14, 2011
In 2011 | No Comments