Bare ruined choirs

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 death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

Shakepeare's Sonnet 73 uses a stark winter tree on the one hand for a symbol of advancing age and creative decline, and on the other, as a metaphor for the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, the 'sweet birds' being the banished choristers. For me this ancient sweet chestnut, a favourite of mine, represented a rather bleak day on which I did not feel at my most cheerful.

Also, this is National Tree Week. Who knew?