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<h1>THE SONNETS</h1>
<h2 class="no-break">by William Shakespeare</h2>
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<h2>CXXX</h2>
<p class="poem">
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;<br/>
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:<br/>
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;<br/>
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.<br/>
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,<br/>
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;<br/>
And in some perfumes is there more delight<br/>
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.<br/>
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know<br/>
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:<br/>
I grant I never saw a goddess go,--<br/>
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:<br/>
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,<br/>
As any she belied with false compare.<br/></p>
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