[00:00.09]Sonnet 98
[00:01.86]by William Shakespeare
[00:03.91]From you have I been absent in the spring,
[00:09.82]When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
[00:15.16]Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
[00:18.25]That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
[00:21.87]Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
[00:27.12]Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
[00:29.76]Could make me any summer's story tell,
[00:32.36]Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
[00:36.32]Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
[00:39.94]Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
[00:43.51]They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
[00:48.19]Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
[00:53.95]Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
[00:59.34]As with your shadow I with these did play.