“love that well which thou must leave ere long”

I was browsing a local magazine called Parable and I happened upon an article on Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73, written by Gary Bouchard, the Chair of the English Department at Saint Anselm College.

Because of the sonnet’s lyrical and artful meditations on love, death, and time, Professor Bouchard felt it to be the closest thing to the perfect poem that he had ever encountered. He asked readers to consider their own accumulating years, and those of their loved ones, and to read the Sonnet imagining that they were speaking to their parent, spouse, child, grandchild, or a dear friend as they were about to leave you.

Sonnet 73

by William Shakespere

That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd 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 death-bed whereon it must expire 
Consum'd with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Shakespeare, and the generations of humanity that preceded us, considered recognition of our own mortality as the beginning of wisdom. Sonnet 73 captures in a profound way the relentless effects time has on the physical body and  how the recognition of our inevitable death serves to strengthen our love for those we love most in the world.

The sonnet speaks not of the actual moment of death, but rather of a time just after sunset – when the sun has vanished – but there is still some light in the sky, a time when the cooling air alerts us to the rapid onset of darkness and when we know how quickly sleep; or death’s second-self might be upon us. 400 years later, Shakespeare’s kindred spirit Bob Dylan would refer to this period in life as the time when “It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there“.

The sonnet also highlights the paradox of our physical existence. The very wood that fuels a fire become the ashes that choke it off. Just so in illness and aging, we are done in by the very things that once nourished us. The hips and knees that helped us run become our daily aches. The heart that kept us living for so long, becomes a source of worry as it weakens.

Everybody encounters sorrow. If you live long enough you too will be witness to the twilight fading and leaving of those you love – and when our own time gets near, we must say goodbye to all those we hold dear. It is during these times that perceptive souls will “love more strong” the people which we “must leave ere long“.

I witnessed the slow decline and early death of my wife to illness over a three year period and I can honestly say that during that difficult time together our love for each other did grow more strong and each good day toward the end felt like a precious gift.

Likewise, towards the end of my 87 year old father’s life, every meeting with him felt like it could be the last; and each parting embrace was thick with untold meaning and love between a father and a son that cannot be expressed in words – we would look deeply into each other’s eyes and he would say “Goodbye, my boy”.

We ought to treat each meaningful parting in our life as a kind of prayer. Especially if it is a leave-taking accompanied by illness and evident aging. No one knows when we will see the ones we love again.

Acceptance of the fact that that our lives will fade or are fading – like the leaves on the trees, like the light at the end of the day, like diminished flames – should deepen our gratitude for the great gift that is our life.