Sonnet CXXX

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;	1
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;	2
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;	3
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.	4
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,	5
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;	6
And in some perfumes is there more delight	7
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.	8
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know	9
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;	10
I grant I never saw a goddess go;	11
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:	12
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare	13
As any she belied with false compare.	14