The first
sonnet of this very cold morning:
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CXXVII
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:
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.
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:
Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe,
That every tongue says beauty should look
so.
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A turn in
each of the first two quatrains—the but
at the beginning of line 3 and the but
at the beginning of line 8—and then the main volta with the yet at the beginning of the closing
couplet. There’s a pattern in the
lengths of the parts preceding the turns:
In the first quatrain, two lines before the but; in the second quatrain, three lines before the but; after that, four lines before the yet.
Another sonnet in the afternoon.
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