Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare
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 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 deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
They have such a cute little face too 🙂
I love these little birds, but man they’re hard to photograph. Thanks Andy!
You did an awesome job at it though as always 🙂
Beautiful words for beautiful captures! 🙂
You are so kind Joanne, thank you!
Beautifully captured moments to accompany exquisite words.
My dear Fatima. To find beauty in nature, we are on this earth for only a short time. It is our duty to open our hearts and minds for discovery. Hope all is well.
Well said Emily…..we are really here for a short time. Smaller birds are really very tough to capture but it is worth the fun 🙂
do have a look at some clicked by https://pankajdhoot.wordpress.com/ at your convenience.
Happy clicking & keep sharing.
Thank you so much Pankaj. I enjoyed visiting your blog this morning and am now following you.
Glad you liked it Emily 🙂