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.
This is my favorite line from Shakespeare because it so beautifully captures how we all slide towards death, and the braveness of loving each other even though we must eventually lose each other… because of the amazing use of assonance… because just reading it gives me chills… because the sonnet is perfect, utterly perfect.
~Catherine Warren, Guest Contributor