Sonnet 1Sonnet 3Sonnet 12Sonnet 18Sonnet 19Sonnet 20Sonnet 29Sonnet 30Sonnet 33Sonnet 55Sonnet 60Sonnet 65Sonnet 71Sonnet 73Sonnet 94Sonnet 106Sonnet 116Sonnet 126Sonnet 127Sonnet 129Sonnet 130Sonnet 138Sonnet 144Sonnet 146Sonnet 147
Original Text
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:
Original Text
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.
Original Text
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:
Original Text
Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so.