I posted this quite a while ago but have learned that my friend Dona Rice, Director for Special Projects at Shell/Teacher Created Materials, had the poem painted to hang on her wall. I love it! With Dona’s permission, here is the illustrated version of “That Kind of Year Thou Mayst In Me Behold.” Dona, thank you again.
For anyone wanting a quick reference to the original, here it is.
That Time Of Year Thou Mayst In Me Behold
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 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 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 leave ere long.