I have always really liked "My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun." I get a kick out of the refutation of the typical, flowery love sonnet about the perfect lady-love that's so overblown as to be ridiculous and patently inhuman. I so get his point that such spectacles of adoration aren't real love. A clear-eyed, honest love is so much more real, so much more loving, so much more interesting.