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Sonnet 130

Terms in this set (7)

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breast 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

That 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 soundl

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.

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