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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 damask'd, 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.
My lover's eyes aren't like the sun; Coral is much redder than her lips; If snow is white, then her breasts are dull brown; If hair is like wires, black wires grow on her head. I've seen roses that are red and white, But I don't see any roses in her cheeks; And some perfumes are more pleasant Than the breath from my lover. I love to hear her speak, but I know That music sounds much better; I admit I've never seen a goddess walk; My lover, when she walks, walks on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love is as unique, As any woman misrepresented with false comparisons.