Night and Day by Virginia Woolf

SONNET 73 by William Shakespeare :

That time of year thou may'st 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 perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,  

 To love that well which thou must leave ere long.