"When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim..."

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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 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 praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,

Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

Soneto XCVIII [ in "William Shakespeare's Sonnets formatted for WIkisource's Complete Works of William Shakespeare from a public domain text file"]

Hoje é o Dia Mundial do Livro e dos Direitos de Autor ou Dia do Livro e da Rosa (...)
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