Shall I compare thee to maidens fair?
With pleasing form and teeth and eyes,
With locks like fine and goldin hair,
Whose curls in which I swirl my tines.
If peas be eyes in your delicate face,
If beauty be in your smiling gaze,
Then green your eyes that roll with grace,
And filled your mouth, with kerneled maize.
With fragrance strong, of salted meat,
With steaming breath, your face turned up,
I dip to embrace, your warmth to meet,
And gently caress your pale curved cup.
And though my love seems full of quirk,
I love thee only as can a fork.
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