The Sonnets CXXVII - In the old age black was not counted fair
By William Shakespeare
In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beautys name;
But now is black beautys successive heir,
And beauty slanderd with a bastard shame:
For since each hand hath put on Natures power,
Fairing the foul with Arts false borrowed face,
Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,
But is profand, 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,
Slandring creation with a false esteem:
Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe,
That every tongue says beauty should look so.