1

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

2

Coral is far more red than her lips' red:

3

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

4

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

5

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,

6

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

7

And in some perfumes is there more delight

8

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

9

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

10

That music hath a far more pleasing sound.

11

I grant I never saw a goddess go:

12

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

13

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

14

As any she belied with false compare.