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- Author: William Shakespeare
- Publisher: Wilder Publications
- Year: 2013
- Pages: 82
- ISBN-10: 1627551697
- ISBN-13: 9781627551694
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.5 cm, softcover
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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Description
William Shakespeare's sonnets are some of his most enduring work and a treasure for all time. Mystery surrounds these magical poems. Who was Shakespeare's Dark Lady and who was the Fair Youth that Shakespeare addressed in so many of the sonnets? These Poems are both witty and poignant. Interestingly, Shakespeare chose to break many of the established rules when writing these. They are simply a joy to read.
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 com
The promotion ends in 
- Author: William Shakespeare
- Publisher: Wilder Publications
- Year: 2013
- Pages: 82
- ISBN-10: 1627551697
- ISBN-13: 9781627551694
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.5 cm, softcover
- Language: English English
William Shakespeare's sonnets are some of his most enduring work and a treasure for all time. Mystery surrounds these magical poems. Who was Shakespeare's Dark Lady and who was the Fair Youth that Shakespeare addressed in so many of the sonnets? These Poems are both witty and poignant. Interestingly, Shakespeare chose to break many of the established rules when writing these. They are simply a joy to read.
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 com
Reviews