"[Jennifer's friend] is excited to join church family and friends as we put the final touches on the repaired sanctuary! We are praying that everything is up and running by Sunday."
Better to repair "bare ruined choirs" than to write poetry about them:
SONNET LXXIII
1. That time of year thou mayst in me behold
2. When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
3. Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
4. Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
5. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
6. As after sunset fadeth in the west;
7. Which by and by black night doth take away,
8. Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
9. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
10. That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
11. As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
12. Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
13. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
14. To love that well, which thou must leave ere long. Sonnet text & commentary
