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…

via Sonnet 73: That Time of Year Thou Mayst in Me Behold by William Shakespeare | Wednesday, October 19, 2016 | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor — The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison KeillorThe Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor