Muse Day – December 2008

  • Post published:12/01/2008
  • Post comments:5 Comments

Sonnet 73 by William ShakespeareThat time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon 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 dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west;Which by and by black night doeth take awayDeath's second self, that seals up all in rest.In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,That on the ashes of…