The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured
And the sad augurs mock their own presage
Incertainties now crown themselves assured
And peace proclaims olives of endless age

But reckoning Time, whose millioned accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows and change decrees of kings
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents
Divert strong minds to th'course of alt'ring things

When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights

Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross
Join with the spite of Fortune, make me bow
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow
If thou will leave me, do not leave me last

Your name from hence immortal life shall have
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die
The earth can yield me but a common grave
Your monument shall be my gentle verse

Or I shall live your epitaph to make
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten
From hence your memory death cannot take
Although in me each part will be forgotten

【大雪】夜深知雪重，时闻折竹声。

Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch
The mountain, or the sea, the day, or night
The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature
Incapable of more, replete with you

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang
In me thou seest the twilight of such day

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea
Whose action is no stronger than a flower
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
When rocks impregnable are not so stout