4/6/09 07:06 pm
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 slandered 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 profane, 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 their woe
That every tongue says beauty should look so.
Sonnet 127. I memorized that shit mothafucka.