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 damaskt，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