Shakespeare wrote powerful sonnets which touch the soul. This one looks into the way we portray ourselves. A woman’s face with nature’s own hand paintedHast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquaintedWith shifting change as is false women’s fashion;An eye more bright than theirs, less
Accept, dear girl, this little token, And if between the lines you seek, You’ll find the love I’ve often spoken The love my dying lips shall speak. Our little ones are making merry O’er am’rous ditties rhymed in jest, But in these words (though awkward very) The genuine article’s expressed.