Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, <br />Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, <br />Have put on black, and loving mourners be, <br />Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. <br />And truly not the morning sun of heaven <br />Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, <br />Nor that full star that ushers in the even <br />Doth half that glory to the sober west <br />As those two mourning eyes become thy face. <br />O, let it then as well beseem thy heart <br />To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace, <br />And suit thy pity like in every part. <br /> Then will I swear beauty herself is black, <br /> And all they foul that thy complexion lack.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-132-thine-eyes-i-love-and-they-as-pitying/
