My mister’s eyes are nothing but Asian,

nude is far more pink than his lips,

If snow is white, then his nipples are a brownish tan,

if hairs are like wires,

his are black and not golden.

I have seen damask roses red and white,

but I do see some rosy in his cheeks,

and some other men give more delight,

than the snobby attitude of my mister.

I love to hear him speak,

but I know that music has a more pleasing sound,

I've never seen a god walk,

but I know that my mister walks only on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love is rare,

as any man who has been misrepresented,

by ridiculous compare.