That time of year thou mayst in me behold by William Shakespeare
It’s that time of year in Austin when the weather fluctuates from 85F one day to 60F the next. Though we haven’t had the riot of fall coloring on the trees, leaves are falling and there is often a nice breeze. I’ve kind of been saving this poem until it was weather appropriate (for me at least), but I don’t think that will really happen, so here it is now.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
By William Shakespeare
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 birds 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 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,
Consum’d 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.
