I don't think I've included any Shakespeare in Poem of the Week before. Here's his debut then, as something of a break from all the modern comic poetry of recent weeks -- though the Bard's not necessarily at his most serious as he "mocks the conventions of the garish and flowery courtly sonnets in its realistic portrayal of his mistress."
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.
For more information on this sonnet, try Wikipedia and its associated links.
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