Peep the twist at the end!


My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, shy then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grw 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 nevr 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