The beast that bears me, tired with my woe
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
My grief lies onward and my joy behind

And, darkly bright, are bright in dark directed
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright
All days are nights to see till I see thee
All nights bright days when dreams do show thee me

Compare them with the bettering of the time
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme
O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love

If thou survive my well-contented day
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover

【立冬】细雨生寒未有霜，庭前木叶半青黄。

They are the lords and owners of their faces
Others but stewards of their excellence
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet
Though to itself it only live and die

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight
And all in war with Time for love of you
As he takes from you, I engraft you new

When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment
That this huge stage presenteth naught but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date

When I behold the violet past prime
And sable curls o'er-silvered all with white
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves