English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
William Shakespeare
126. Ninety-seventh Sonnet
H
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,
What old December’s bareness everywhere!
And yet this time removed was summer’s time;
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime
Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me
But hope of orphans, and unfather’d fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.