That Time Of Year...

"That Time Of Year..."

That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves or none or few do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold Bare ruined choris 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 Thus thou perceiv'st which makes thy love more Strong to love that well which thou must leave ere long. et me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments.Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds Or Bends with the remover  to remove O" No!It's an ever fixed mark That looks on tempests, and is never shaken It is the star to every wandering bark.

Whose worth's unknown although His hight be taken Love is not time's fool,though rosy lips and cheeks
With in her bending sickle's compass come Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks
 But Hears it outev'n to the edge of doom If this be error, and upon me proved .I Never writ nor no man ever loved.