minstrel sleep

 

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 ruined 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 all up in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare

photo by Darren Holmes www.darrenholmes.com/

Comments

[Becky]

Where do you find the time!! You always have the most amazing things on your page!!!
XXX
Becky

[Debby]

You know that I am a huge fan of yours. And perhaps you receive blogger awards all the time but I wanted you to know that your blog is one that I especially appreciate. So with that. I have something on my blog for you.