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 every thing
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt 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 lilies 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 seemed it winter still, and you away
As with your shadow I with these did play



Credits
Writer(s): Tc Schultz
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