My Version of Sonnet XCVII

I have been gone so long
From you, the happiness of the seasons!
It has been so cold and dreary!
And December's cold and emptiness everywhere!
And yet it has been summer.
As well as autumn, with the harvest,
With all the things that autumn brings,
Like the wombs of widows when their husband dies;
Yet the pleasures of these seasons seemed
But the hope of orphans;
But around you summer reigns,
And when you are gone the birds do not sing;
    If they do sing it is not a happy song
    And the leaves look pale dreading the winter.
                                                     Sonnet XCVII