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Sonnet 127. Shakespeare

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.

William Shakespeare, 1598

Sonnet 127. First edition of Shakespeare's Sonnets, 1609.

Sonnet 127. First edition of Shakespeare's Sonnets, 1609.

The end of the sonnet 127.

The end of the sonnet 127.

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