“...a bard's down-to-earth love: My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red and when she walks, treads on the ground...”

“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 delightThan in the breath that from my mistress reeks.I love to hear her speak, yet well I knowThat 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.”

“...there's nothing more lovely than your lamplight, seen from a dark street...”

“...I've always idealized women I've loved - they all fell short, save one - the one God chose for me - she lights up a room by walking into it...”

“...I know I misplace my glasses - the one's I don't need - you roll your eyes - but I don't misplace my love ...”

“...I pluck every day from my sweater or chair, red hairs...strands of significance, traces of you in my life ...”

“...I lost my illusions in a black rain of bitterness - now what do you see in my eyes? How can you still love me? How can I be tender? ...”