In the old age black was not counted fair, <br />Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; <br />But now is black beauty's successive heir, <br />And beauty slandered with a bastard shame. <br />For since each hand hath put on nature's power, <br />Fairing the foul with art's false borrowed face, <br />Sweet beauty hath no name no holy bower, <br />But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. <br />Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black, <br />Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem, <br />At such who, not born fair no beauty lack, <br />Sland'ring creation with a false esteem. <br /> Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, <br /> That every tongue says beauty should look so.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-127-in-the-old-age-black-was-not-counted/
