Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain,Have put on black, and loving mourners be,Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.And truly not the morning sun of heav'nBetter becomes the gray cheeks of th' east,Nor that full star that ushers in the ev'nDoth half that glory to the sober westAs those two morning eyes become thy face.O let it then as well beseem thy heartTo mourn for me since mourning doth thee graceAnd suit thy pity like in every part. Then will I swear beauty her self is black, And all they foul that thy complexion lack.