Shakespeare's Sonnet 130
"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."
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."
This gets me every time!
And though this may seem like a joke, and some critics have taken this sonnet to be a parody of the time, Shakespeare simply mocking other poets from his era, I side with others that claim Sonnet 130, though seemingly filled with insults, is overwhelmingly a compliment of the highest degree.
The key is found in the final couplet.
Don't we all deserve to be loved for who we truly are? Don't we deserve to be truly seen? No false pretenses. Nothing erroneous.
True Love.
True Passion.
Fully in reality, aware of faults, but fully loved regardless.
That's what I want :0)
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