![]() ![]() Don’t get me wrong, I love to hear her speak, but I know her voice isn’t exactly musical and I admit that I’ve never seen a goddess here on earth, but I can say with some certainty that my mistress, when she goes, walks on the ground like a very un-goddess-like woman. Perfumes smell sweeter than the breath that comes out of her mouth. ![]() I’ve seen roses of different colours, pink, red, and white, but my beloved’s cheeks don’t resemble these beautiful roses in any way. ‘My mistress’ eyes are nowhere near as bright and dazzling as the sun, and even pale pink coral is redder than her pale lips her breasts are hardly snow-white, and are more a dull brown colour and she has black hair on her hair (rather than, say, the fair hair of the traditional paragons of beauty). Okay, the paraphrase first, which will serve as a sort of summary of the poem’s meaning. My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:Īnd yet by heaven, I think my love as rare, That music hath a far more pleasing sound: I love to hear her speak, yet well I know Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I have seen roses damasked, red and white,Īnd in some perfumes is there more delight ![]() If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun Ĭoral is far more red, than her lips red: ![]()
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