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.
5 comments:
My daughter wanted to watch Love, Actually over Christmas vacation so that's the image of Alan Rickman I've had in my mind. This is much more attractive. I think I could spend a long time listening to him reading aloud.
I never thought to check and see if he's narrated any books. Goodness, that would be wonderful!
He has a rugged look about him, and his voice is quite sensual.
I love the cover in the previous post, by the way!
thanks, Glynis! :)
The write line is meaningful and real feelings.
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