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Read Shakespeare's "Sonnet 130."
O She has trouble walking on the ground.
O When she walks, she leaves footprints.
Like everyone, she walks on the ground
O She cannot be compared to other standards.
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
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