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.
I know my wife doesn’t read my blog very often, but this is for her.
At first glance, it would seem that Shakespeare doesn’t think much of his mistress, the sun shines brighter than her eyes, her skin isn’t as white as the driven snow, her breath sometimes doesn’t smell like perfume. The truth of the matter is, though, that his love for his mistress doesn’t need to exaggerate her beauty. Other men may have to embellish and wax elegant to make up for the emptiness of love, but not here. He describes their love as rare and makes it clear that he doesn’t need to make false comparisons about her to know that in his heart he has tremendous love for her. Some men may utter false words, but he doesn’t need to because he accepts her as she is and is truly in love with her.
Christi and I celebrate our 15th anniversary today. We’ve had our ups and downs, we’ve seen each other through the good and the bad. And still our love grows stronger every day. I am truly blessed to call her my wife and my friend. Happy Anniversary!