As after sunset fadeth in the west William Shakespeare

 

That time of year thou mayest 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.

 

William Shakespeare