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Piano vs. choir in tight harmony. Shakespeare. Difficult. What more could you ask for?
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 girdled 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, and nothing ’gainst Time’s scythe can make defense
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
—William Shakespeare (1564‒1616)
Sonnet XII by Dean Crocker is offered to the public under a nonexclusive license.
Copyright © 2017 Dean Crocker d/b/a CROCKER MUSIC
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Last modified: Wed Aug 23, 17:25 CDT 2017