Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (Sonnet 18)

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (Sonnet 18)

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

William Shakespeare

Sonnet 130: My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

Sonnet 130: 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.

William Shakespeare

A Pretty Woman
I.
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,And the blue eyeDear and dewy,And that infantine fresh air of hers!
II.
To think men cannot take you, Sweet,And enfold you,Ay, and hold you,And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!
III
You like us for a glance, you know---For a word's sakeOr a sword's sake,All's the same, whate'er the chance, you know.
IV.
And in turn we make you ours, we say---You and youth too,Eyes and mouth too,All the face composed of flowers, we say.
V.
All's our own, to make the most of, Sweet---Sing and say for,Watch and pray for,Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet!
VI.
But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,Though we prayed you,Paid you, brayed youin a mortar---for you could not, Sweet!
VII.
So, we leave the sweet face fondly there:Be its beautyIts sole duty!Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!
VIII.
And while the face lies quiet there,Who shall wonderThat I ponderA conclusion? I will try it there.
IX.
As,---why must one, for the love foregone,Scout mere liking?Thunder-strikingEarth,---the heaven, we looked above for, gone!
X.
Why, with beauty, needs there money be,Love with liking?Crush the fly-kingIn his gauze, because no honey-bee?
XI.
May not liking be so simple-sweet,If love grew there'Twould undo thereAll that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?
XII.
Is the creature too imperfect,Would you mend itAnd so end it?Since not all addition perfects aye!
XIII.
Or is it of its kind, perhaps,Just perfection---Whence, rejectionOf a grace not to its mind, perhaps?
XIV.
Shall we burn up, tread that face at onceInto tinder,And so hinderSparks from kindling all the place at once?
XV.
Or else kiss away one's soul on her?Your love-fancies!---A sick man seesTruer, when his hot eyes roll on her!
XVI.
Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,---Plucks a mould-flowerFor his gold flower,Uses fine things that efface the rose:
XVII.
Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,Precious metalsApe the petals,---Last, some old king locks it up, morose!
XVIII.
Then how grace a rose? I know a way!Leave it, rather. Must you gather?Smell, kiss, wear it---at last, throw away!

Robert Browning

Song

Song

I.
Nay but you, who do not love her,
Is she not pure gold, my mistress?
Holds earth aught---speak truth---above her?
Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,
And this last fairest tress of all,So fair, see, ere I let it fall?
II.
Because, you spend your lives in praising;
To praise, you search the wide world over:
Then why not witness, calmly gazing,
If earth holds aught---speak truth---above her?
Above this tress, and this, I touch
But cannot praise, I love so much!

Robert Browning