Tuesday, November 19, 2013

SONNET CXLV

Those lips that Love's own hand did make
 Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate'
 To me that languish'd 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 alter'd with an end,
 That follow'd 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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