How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's barrenness everywhere!
And yet remov'd was summer's time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burthen (burden) of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease*:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
But hope of orphans and unfather'd 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.
---William Shakespeare, 1609
*old school sexism: the womb isn't worth much when the husband's died
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