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.
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 sav'd my life, saying 'not you'
More verses by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 47: Betwixt Mine Eye And Heart A League Is Took
- Sonnet 98: From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring
- Sonnet 139: O, Call Not Me To Justify The Wrong
- Sonnet Cxl
- Sonnet 35: No More Be Grieved At That Which Thou Hast Done