From you have I been absent in the spring...
Sonnet 98From 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 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; 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. |
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I’ve been away from you in spring, when April with his many colours has made everything feel young, even old Father Time himself. But neither the chirping birds nor the pretty flowers could make a summer for me. I couldn’t care less about the lily’s pure white or the rose’s crimson: they only reminded me of you, you being the pattern of all beautiful things. It seemed as if it was still winter, while in your absence I merely toyed with these things as if with shadows of you.