A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted <br />Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; <br />A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted <br />With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; <br />An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, <br />Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; <br />A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, <br />Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. <br />And for a woman wert thou first created, <br />Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, <br />And by addition me of thee defeated, <br />By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. <br /> But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure, <br /> Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-20-a-woman-s-face-with-nature-s-own-hand/
