名人诗歌|THE SONNETS by William Shakespeare (127)

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^{1 shame： For since each hand hath put on Nature's power, Fairing the foul2 with Art's false borrowed face, Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower3, But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven4 black, Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, Sland'ring creation with a false esteem5： Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe6, That every tongue says beauty should look so.}