Letra de XCVII

How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year What freezing have I felt, what dark days seen With old December's bareness everywhere And yet this time remov'd was summer's time The teeming Autumn big with rich increase Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime Like widowed wombs after their Lord's decease Yet this abundant issue seem'd 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