My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun

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 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 heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.

Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare

Shakespeare is expressing the kind of love that has nothing to do with the beloved’s looks. He satirizes the usual way of expressing love for a woman – praising her lips and her hair, the way she walks, and all the things that a young man may rave about when he thinks about his beloved. What he does is invert those things, assert that his beloved is ugly, ungainly, bad-smelling, etc, but ends by saying that his love for her is as ‘rare’ as that of any young man who writes flatteringly about the object of his love.

Read more at nosweatshakespeare.com