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-painted/
