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Saturday, May 2, 2015

THAT TIME OF YEAR: POEM --- WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE#FORWARDED BY CYNTHIA ABEGAIL

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 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 up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on ashes of his youth lie...
Thus thou perceivest, which makes thy love
more strong, To love that well which thou must
leave ere long.
William Shakespeare
(Sonnet LXXIII)

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