April 23rd 1616 is Shakespeare's death day. We don't know the date of his birth exactly, though it was in April 1564 and we traditionally celebrate his birth on April 23rd, which also happens to be St.George's Day, the patron saint of England.
So it seems only fitting today to focus on a poem and I chose Sonnet 98 because it mentions April and because, for many of us, the absence of loved ones is pertinent at this time.
Sonnet 98
William Shakespeare
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.
This poem also speaks to me because, on my run yesterday, I descended a slope from the manicured golf course, and its scent of mowed grass, into a wood where, before I saw the blooms, the perfume of the bluebells overwhelmed my senses. So glorious, that I cried out, 'Oh! This is wonderful!' and then the carpet of blue, a blue verging toward violet, and the sky pure azure above the translucent leaves.
It's not one of his famous sonnets, nor, I think, an especially good or memorable one, so in retrospect, I feel rather guilty celebrating the greatest ever poet with a below par verse. Still, I guess it'll be new to you, as it was to me, and that's something. The following analysis is thus rather uncertain, hesitant, ambivalent.
It's notable that he starts with 'From you' rather than 'In spring' - this puts the beloved in centre stage. The absent one's absence is entirely present, as it were. 'Proud-pied' is rather lovely - and I wonder if Gerard Manley Hopkins thought of this verse when he wrote 'Pied Beauty'. It means gloriously variegated, rather than specifically black and white.
I like the image of the young month, in its finery, rejuvenating even old Saturn - who was meant to induce depression. This maybe doesn't work entirely well for the poet, though, as his depression, it seems, continues and is not lifted by the spring growth. No, I'm wrong, he addresses that with the 'Yet' - the spring is gorgeous enough to enliven Saturn, but he says, nothing can lift him. Not the 'lays' of the birds (it's interesting to choose that rather than songs, but the choice of a word with the sense of 'stories' will have resonance later) nor the flowers move him.
The lines about the flowers are rather clumsy - he marks their 'sweet scent' then repeats that thought with the comment that they are different 'in odour and in hue.' It feels like he opted for that for the rhythm.
And here's that reference to the stories - nothing can incline him to tell a summer story. The idea was that happy tales were for summer, the sad ones better for winter. Recall A Winter's Tale, which has much sadness in it - though all works out well in the end.
Nor can anything inspire him to pluck the flowers from the 'proud lap' where they grew. The repetition of the word proud also seems a little careless. I see he wanted the idea of pride and the alliteration in 'proud-pied' and here I think he's both reaffirming the triumphant vibe of spring while also perhaps suggesting that the lover is back in his noble family home at this time. That seems to make sense. I think that 'pluck' also refers to the act of copulation.
The references to lilies and roses expand that concept. Lilies suggest either or both innocence and chastity or death; while roses suggest love and passion. So, he's not celebrating the lover's unattainability (sonnet sequences are extended love letters seeking sexual consummation) and purity, nor his beauty and the unfulfilled passion. Without the lover being present, these ideas, and the blooms representing them, are empty. Signifiers without a signified.
The next two lines put nature in her place: it's all very well, but all that beauty is just a sketch of the lover - and he is not there. This reaffirms the idea of the empty signifiers.
The final two lines should be a solid conclusion to the argument. I like the idea that for him it's winter still, the third of the seasons referenced by the poem, and the time for sad stories. And what he's saying is that just as he has to be satisfied with the lover's portrait (shadow) so the vestiges of spring feel like just images of themselves, not the real thing. So the conclusion is that without the lover, nothing has meaning, reality, essence or the power to move the poet.
Well, Shakey, my love, this might not be your best, but it's still pretty darn good - and you are the patron saint of poets, dramatists and lovers everywhere. Happy Birthday.
As is my little tradition, I have read it for you. You can find the audio here.
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