Classic Love Poems
TSonnet 130
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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 wires,
black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd,
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.
William Shakespeare
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