| THINE eyes I love, and they, as pitying me | |
| Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, | |
| Have put on black and loving mourners be, | |
| Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. | |
| And truly not the morning sun of heaven | 5 |
| Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, | |
| Nor that full star that ushers in the even, | |
| Doth half that glory to the sober west, | |
| As those two mourning eyes become thy face: | |
| O! let it then as well beseem thy heart | 10 |
| To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace, | |
| And suit thy pity like in every part. | |
| Then will I swear beauty herself is black, | |
| And all they foul that thy complexion lack. |