inkstained

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;

I have seen roses damasked, 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 heav'n I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

—William Shakespeare

I absolutely love this sonnet, backhanded compliments to his lover or not. I think one reason I like it so much because I heard Alan Rickman's rendition of this sonnet with his deep, silky voice--but I digress. The verses are hilarious, setting up comparisons to nature and then defying them. The speaker loves his mistress for herself, not because she conforms to any predefined notions of what beauty is. She's not a Barbie-doll goddess; she's a woman, and he loves her. It's just a great, realistic poem.