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<p style="color:#333333;font-weight:normal;font-size:16px;line-height:30px;font-family:Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;hyphens:auto;text-align:justify;" data-flag="normal">SONNET 127</p><p style="font-size:16px;line-height:30px;font-family:Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;color:#333333;font-weight:normal;text-align:justify;" data-flag="normal"><span>In the old age black was not counted fair,</span><br><span>Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;</span><br><span>But now is black beauty's successive heir,</span><br><span>And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame:</span><br><span>For since each hand hath put on nature's power,</span><br><span>Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face,</span><br><span>Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,</span><br><span>But is profan'd, if not lives in disgrace.</span><br><span>Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black,</span><br><span>Her eyes so suited; and they mourners seem</span><br><span>At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,</span><br><...