Autumn and Shakespeare's Sonnet 73

I'm not sure if this sonnet by Shakespeare is depressing or not; it depends on my mood when I read it. Today, I think it's a calm reflection on the nature of aging, with the season as the obvious metaphor. 

I'm attracted to the stark images: 

"bare ruin'd choirs" and "the glowing of such fire/

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie."

Some days, this fits my mood all too well. 

Have a lovely fall day,

C

Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold

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 ruin'd 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 death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

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