Sonnet LXXIII
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
William Shakespeare
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 seest 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
Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
The Chronicles of Egydyus Flombosi 
Beautiful and straight to the point , some maintain that Shakespeare was wordy but this is a punch to the heart.
Of course much of the content would stand alone as quotes.
LikeLiked by 1 person