Sonnet 130 - W. Shakespeare
6 set 2019 ·
1 min. 8 sec.
Iscriviti gratuitamente
Ascolta questo episodio e molti altri. Goditi i migliori podcast su Spreaker!
Scarica e ascolta ovunque
Scarica i tuoi episodi preferiti e goditi l'ascolto, ovunque tu sia! Iscriviti o accedi ora per ascoltare offline.
Descrizione
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...
mostra di più
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 damask'd, 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.
mostra meno
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 damask'd, 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.
Informazioni
| Autore | Save poetry, read a poem |
| Sito | - |
| Tag |
Copyright 2024 - Spreaker Inc. an iHeartMedia Company
