My love is like a deep and placid lake... Not now, sweetie, Daddy's busy, OK? OK: my love's a deep and peaceful lake... Here, Daddy can fix it. All better. Now go play. Um, my love, yes—a rose that blooms in spring... You tell her Daddy says she has to share. My love's... My love's a lake that . . .
Sonnet 130: My Mistress’ Eyes are Nothing like the Sun
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 . . .