William Shakespeare



              Sonnet 145
                   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'.