In honour of his birth/deathday yesterday, we're sharing a beloved Shakespeare sonnet for this week's Poetry Corner.
Sonnet 98 by William Shakespeare
From 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 odor and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell. Or from their proud lap pluck them while 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.
Image: A Basket of Flowers by Jan Brueghel the Younger