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..:!!!