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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare: Poems.  1914.

Sonnet CXLV.

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make”


THOSE lips that Love’s own hand did make 
Breath’d 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,         5
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet 
Was us’d 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  10
Doth follow night, who like a fiend 
From heaven to hell is flown away. 
  ‘I hate’ from hate away she threw, 
  And sav’d my life, saying—‘Not you.’ 


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