Sonnet 145
Those lips that Love's own hand did
make
«William Shakespeare»
Those lips that Love's own hand did make,
Breathed forth the
sound that said 'I hate',
To me that languished
for her sake:
But when she saw my
woeful state,
Straight in her heart
did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue
that ever sweet,
Was used in giving
gentle doom:
And taught it thus
anew to greet:
'I hate' she altered
with an end,
That followed it as
gentle day,
Doth follow night who
like a fiend
From heaven to hell
is flown away.
'I hate', from hate
away she threw,
And saved my life
saying 'not you'.
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