My mistress' eyes are nothing
like the sun;
Coral is far more red than
her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then
her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wire, black wires
grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked,
red and white,
But no such roses see I in
her cheeks,
And in some perfumes is there
more delight
Than in the breath that from
my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak,yet
well I know
That music hath a far more
pleasing sound.
I grant I never saw a goddess
go;
My mistress when she walks
treads on the ground.
And yet,by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
My Perception of Poetry My Love Poems My Favorite Poets
