Happy Birthday Shakespeare
SONNET 130
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.
The truth, it speaks…
Sharyn
Comment by Sharyn — April 24, 2011 @ 11:58 am
Hey girl…you sick again?
As Cher said to Nic Cage in Moonstruck,
GET OVER IT!
Comment by Sharyn — May 3, 2011 @ 9:02 pm
Thanks I needed that!
Comment by Viv — May 5, 2011 @ 2:38 pm