Sonnet 97
How like a winter hath my absence
been
«William Shakespeare»
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the
pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I
felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's
bareness everywhere!
And yet this time
removed was summer's time,
The teeming autumn
big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton
burden of the prime,
Like widowed wombs
after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant
issue seemed to me
But hope of orphans,
and unfathered fruit,
For summer and his
pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the
very birds are mute.
Or if they sing, 'tis
with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look
pale, dreading the winter's near.
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