phantomcranefly (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} phantomcranefly) wrote,@ 2007-04-18 20:28:00 |
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If you see this, post some Shakespeare.
It's been almost a year since my last update, and the post I read this on was from 2005, but since it was from A. T. Rain, my favorite fan author, I felt guilty about ignoring it. So, without further ado:
My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lip's red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun,
If hair be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
In some perfumes there is more delight
Than the breath with which my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
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.
It's been almost a year since my last update, and the post I read this on was from 2005, but since it was from A. T. Rain, my favorite fan author, I felt guilty about ignoring it. So, without further ado:
My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lip's red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun,
If hair be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
In some perfumes there is more delight
Than the breath with which my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
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.
