That Time of Year



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.

-William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
That Time of Year
Though Mayst in Me Behold
,
Sonnet LXXIII







images © 1999 by Randy Wang
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