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- LXXIII
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- 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 seest 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
- Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.
- This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
- To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
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