Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring
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 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.
Notes
//rebirth///invocation// Among our monthly rituals, we return to the structural grace of William Shakespeare’s sonnets. For April, we feature Sonnet 98, a masterclass in the persistence of the "spirit of youth." The poem captures that precise moment where the season breathes life back into the landscape, insisting on a return even within the heaviest, most rigid structures of our world. It is the literal geometry of Rebirth: the inevitable breaking of the winter seal to find the "proud-pied" color waiting underneath. . . . #Rebirth #Shakespeare #Romanticism #April #Literature