Shakespeare’s speaker has missed his beloved all spring. He describes April in full, proud dress, infusing everything with youthful spirit—even melancholy Saturn laughed and danced. Yet the birdsong and the fragrance of colorful flowers could not coax a happy summer story from him, nor did he feel like picking blossoms. He didn’t marvel at the lily’s whiteness or praise the rose’s deep red. To him, they were merely sweet imitations, drawn after the beloved, who is the true pattern. So spring still felt like winter. With his love away, playing among the flowers was only playing with a shadow. The mood is one of quiet longing: the season’s beauty falls flat without the person who gives it meaning. Love reshapes perception, and absence turns a vibrant world into a pale imitation.
Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring — Summary
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 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.