但见缤纷的四月，全副盛装，
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
在每样东西的心头点燃起春意，
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
教那悲哀的土星也同他跳，笑嚷。
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
可是，无论是鸟儿的歌谣，或是
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
那异彩夺目、奇香扑鼻的繁花
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
都不能使我讲任何夏天的故事，
Could make me any summer's story tell,
或者把花儿从轩昂的茎上采下：
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
我也不惊叹百合花晶莹洁白，
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
也不赞美玫瑰花深湛的红色；
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
它们不过是仿造你喜悦的体态
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
跟娇美罢了，你是一切的准则。
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
现在依然像冬天，你不在旁边，
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
我跟它们玩，像是跟你的影子玩。
As with your shadow I with these did play.