sonnet

Those lips that Love's own hand did makeBreathed 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 sweetWas 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 dayDoth follow night, who like a fiendFrom heaven to hell is flown away;'I hate' from hate away she threw,And saved my life, saying 'not you.'