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.

i dug this out after reading derik some poetry from another book. one of my favorite poems of all time is in here and i decided i needed to share it with him. i thoroughly enjoy shakespeare. i recall in 9th grade english when my teacher said to the class, “if you don’t like shakespeare there’s something wrong with you.” i don’t necessarily agree w/his statement but i am hard pressed to find fault w/ the bards works.