Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.
William Shakespeare XI. How like a winter hath my absence beenH
From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,
What old December’s bareness everywhere!
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime
Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease:
But hope of orphans, and unfather’d fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.