My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun... (Sonnet CXXX) Lyrics

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

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

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

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