Sonnet 98

From you have I been absent in the spring (Sonnet 98)

From you have I been absent in the spring,

When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,

Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,

That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,

Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell

Of different flowers in odor and in hue,

Could make me any summer’s story tell,

Or from the proud lap pluck them where they grew.

Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,

Nor praise the deep vermillion in the rose;

They were but sweet, but figures of delight,

Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.

   Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,

   As with your shadow I with these did play.

~ William Shakespeare