I was actually looking for a poem about spring gardens, in line with these sunny spring days full of blossoms. But then I came across this one and it dawned on me that I hadn’t posted a poem by the Bard for some time now. So, because of the lyrical match between spring and love, and because it was long overdue, a sonnet by William Shakespeare. Enjoy.
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.