Sonnet 73

Composed around 1593 (29)

first published 1609 (45)

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thoust 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 the rest.

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the deathbed whereon it must expire,

Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well, which thou must ere leave long.

the choir is the part of the church where the priest stands, and where the choir sings. In churches builit in the gothic style, the architecture resembles over-arching boughs. Consumed with that which it was nourished by: not an entirely successful paradox, but clearly meaning that the wood which at first nourished the fire, changed to ashes, puts out the fire.

Commentary

This is an early sonnet. It is actually quite stiff, very correct, well formed, organised, regular, three quatrains followed by a couplet, almost military in construction. Military in the sense that the poet has polished all his buttons, pressed his trousers and brushed his tunic, ready for inspection, in this case, inspection by the illustrious, rich, and charmiing Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, the young man to whom the sonnet is in fact addressed. Each quatrain takes a different metaphor: in the first, it is the seasons; in the second, it is the day; in the third, it is the fire. It is slightly absurd because, when he wrote it, Shakespeare must have been around twenty-nine years old, his lover, the Earl of Southampton, around nineteen. How do we know this?

We date the poem between the dedication of the Venus and Adonis in 1593:

I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship....

very courtly and respectful, and the dedication of the Rape of Lucrece in 1594:

The love I dedicate to your lordship is without end ....

affectionate and intimate.

This sonnet stands somewhere between the two. There is something remarkably timid in Shakespeare's recognition of the love of his young friend. He only ventures to mention it in the final two lines. The rest is taken up by self-mocking exaggeration of his own great age (twenty-nine!) in competent verse which demonstrates great facility, but not passion.

Can the balding glovemaker's son really be addressing the handsome and rich scion of a noble house? Has the boy really fallen in love with him? It's almost as though Shakespeare would like to efface himself immediately, acknowledging the goodness of his young lover in recognising that he is not long for this world, implying that it is his impending doom that encourages the boy to love, out of sympathy.

It is in effect a clever appeal to the boy's good nature. In effect, it means, don't dismiss me because I am poor and old, but so well (and amusingly) put that the meaning is almost hidden.