Poetry Monday

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)



by William Shakespeare






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 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.