1 Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
2 Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain,
3 Have put on black, and loving mourners be,
4 Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
5 And truly not the morning sun of heaven
6 Better becomes the grey cheeks of th' east,
7 Nor that full star that ushers in the even
8 Doth half that glory to the sober west,
9 As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
10 O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
11 To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
12 And suit thy pity like in every part.
13 Then will I swear beauty herself is black
14 And all they foul that thy complexion lack.