Breasts

From Superdickery

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Tits. Gazongas. Boobies.  Hooters.  Melons.  Whatever you want to call them.
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
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Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
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If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
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If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
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I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
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But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
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And in some perfumes is there more delight
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Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
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I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
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That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
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I grant I never saw a goddess go,
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My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
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And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
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As any she belied with false compare.

Current revision as of 14:46, 8 September 2010

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.

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