Poem of the Week
PotW.org
Founded August 1996
<   PotW #330   >
This Week's Poem

Past Poems...
...by Poet
...by Title and First Line
...by Occasion

Contact about...
...Free Subscription
...Submitting a Poem
...other Questions

The Fine Print...
...Copyright Information
...Page Mission
...Privacy Policy

Links to...
...other Poetry Sites


 

 

      William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

                                      CXXX.

    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 !

 


The above sonnet can be found in:
  • Shakespeare, William. "The Globe Illustrated Shakespeare: The Complete Works Annotated." Howard Staunton ed. New York: Gramercy Books, 1993.