- In the old age black was not counted fair,
- Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name;
- But now is black beauty’s successive heir,
- And beauty slander’d with a bastard shame:
- For since each hand hath put on Nature’s power,
- Fairing the foul with Art’s false borrowed face,
- Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,
- But is profan’d, if not lives in disgrace.
- Therefore my mistress’ eyes are raven black,
- Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem
- At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,
- Sland’ring creation with a false esteem:
- Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe,
- That every tongue says beauty should look so.