My mistress’ eyes are completely like the sun;
Nothing is a red as her lips’ red;
If summer is right, then her breasts are perfect;
If hairs be wires, brown silk grows on her head;
I have seen beautiful roses, red and white;
And these are the roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes there is no more delight;
Than in the breath that my mistress takes;
I love to hear her speak, as I know;
That music hasn’t a more pleasing sound;
I see a goddess go;
As my mistress as she walks, stays far from the ground:
And yes, as in heaven, I see my love as rare,
As there’s no possible way to false compare.
