| 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’s shame: | |
| For since each hand hath put on Nature’s power, | 5 |
| Fairing the foul with Art’s false borrow’d face, | |
| Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, | |
| But is profan’d, if not lives in disgrace. | |
| Therefore my mistress’ brows are raven black, | |
| Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem | 10 |
| 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. |