While one a short hike right near the border between Utah and Idaho, I tried to capture the songs of all the [Western Meadowlarks](https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/western-meadowlark) around me. If you listen closely, you can just hear them. It's one of my favorite birdsongs, and they're not shy about singing it.
Today's poem is another of Shakespeare's sonnets. If you didn't hear my episodes on the sonnets, I highly recommend heading back and listening to episodes 201, 203, and 205. I give a brief summary here, but only very, very briefly.
There are still a couple of important moves left for the sonnets, and next time we will be leaving the handsome young man and hooking up with the dark lady. Whoo: mysterious!
### TEXT OF POEM
Sonnet 126, by William Shakespeare
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:
Her audit (though delayed) answered must be,
And her quietus is to render thee.
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