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'.