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Sonnets xii

 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 widow'd wombs after their Lord's decease: 
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me 
But hope of orphans and unfather'd 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.

Poem by William Shakespeare
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