My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun - Alan Rickman
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 damasked 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 ground to I never saw I gotes skill
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
