TELL me not of a face that's fair, Nor lip and cheek that's red, Nor of the tresses of her hair, Nor curls in order laid, Nor of a rare seraphic voice That like an angel sings; Though if I were to take my choice I would have all these things: But if that thou wilt have me love, And it must be a she, The only argument can move Is that she will love me. The glories of your ladies be But metaphors of things, And but resemble what we see Each common object brings. Roses out-red their lips and cheeks, Lilies their whiteness stain; What fool is he that shadows seeks And may the substance gain? Then if thou'lt have me love a lass, Let it be one that 's kind: Else I'm a servant to the glass That 's with Canary lined. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IDEA: TO THE READER OF THESE SONNETS, INTRODUCTION by MICHAEL DRAYTON COMMON DUST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON THE SITE OF A MULBERRY-TREE PLANTED BY SHAKESPEARE ... by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI JEFFERSON DAVIS by WALKER MERIWETHER BELL THE DRUNKEN DESPERADO by BAIRD BOYD TWO HISTORIES by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE NIGHT JOURNEY by RUPERT BROOKE |