That Time Of Year Thou Mayest In Me Behold By William Shakespeare

That Time Of Year Thou Mayest In Me Behold By William Shakespeare That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.In me thou see’st the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth […]