Sonnet 73

　　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 mined 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 seest the glowing of such fire

　　That on the ashes of his y