A Sonnet by Any Other Name
Eyes like lips, lips like hair,
To who shall you I false compare?
Skin like chin, chin like nose,
Red and ruby as a rose.
Voice as husky as the wind,
Sweet and deep as Rosalind,
Words of silken milk and honey,
Flow so smooth, flow so runny.
A swarm of dimples round the cleft,
A flock of pimples blocked out deft.
Freckles pricked by mum’s own pin,
A drop of Scotch that runs within.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,
Made glorious winter by this stiff verse?
Or to twice hot Venus on a clam,
With heaving chest as pink as ham?
To compare would not be true:
They are them, and thee are you.