Sonnet 130

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 damasked, 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.