When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
I adore this sad, yet, at the end, hopeful piece. It speaks to me, at this time in my life about how nothing truly endures through the ages except Love, which can outface even Death.
I'm slowly edging towards 40, which could be the middle point of my life, or maybe it's already past me by. But I think that as long as I have the love of my family, I'll be ok.
Then, that evening, had drinks with other classical theatre luminaries from the amazing Shakespeare Forum into the wee hours of the morning. Good times, good friends, good conversation!
Happy Birthday Will! Next year in Stratford for the big 450th!