This is too good to let languish. So I'll bump it with an entry in another idiom.

"Sad Girl Sonnet" after Sonnet 73

This time of year, the greys that I behold
Are matched by clouds and snow and naked trees:
What sprang anew in spring now seems so old,
As limbs that once were supple start to freeze.
So as the waning day yields to the night,
My hope will fade and all my moods turn dark
In contemplating life lived in twilight
And spent in lonely watch in empty parks.
But hope, though growing dim, is present still:
I wait for that which makes me feel complete --
When it's there, we laugh at winter's chill
When not, we weep despite the summer's heat...
With winter comes scant comfort from above:
Where nature fails, our warmth must come from love.

(Apologies to William "Lyfe of th' Partie" Shakespeare)

Sonnet 73

This time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake aganst 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 the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

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