Sonnet 147, Summer Blossoms Wither

Summer blossoms wither, in death they hide, Light will go into dark and disappear; Growth fades away with some early premiere, Of few seeds that with the winter collide. Dark the world rises for light is denied, All what in this summer had become so dear; Into forgotten thoughts now turns unclear, Only to memory they become close tied. Like this - our life and everything that gives birth, Without no rest it comes and grows to run, And plays in spring and early summer morn. Gets colored and assorted to the earth, Like the flowers - fresh that grow in the sun, Till again it'll be like the seeds - airborne.