William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet XCVIII.

“From you have I been absent in the spring”

FROM you have I been absent in the spring  
When proud-pied April, dress’d in all his trim,  
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,  
That heavy Saturn laugh’d and leap’d with him.  
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell    5
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,  
Could make me any summer’s story tell,  
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:  
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,  
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;   10
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,  
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.  
  Yet seem’d it winter still, and you away,  
  As with your shadow I with these did play.