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 everything，

　　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 lily's white，

　　Nor pra