Wednesday, September 24, 2003 :::
Sonnet 130: 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.
-- William Shakespeare
I just think that's the sweetest poem ever... It's like.. I'm ugly as sin but my guy still loves me...
::: posted by tinafish at 5:25 PM :::