Sonnet 145

Those lips that love’s own hand did make

Breathed 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 saved my life, saying ‘not you.’

My love said “I hate” and I startled

At such words from such kindness.

I was sorry to see that this terrible world

Had provoked even her to this.

And when she saw the hurt in my eyes,

She quickly gave over to mercy

And repented the tongue that lies

And rethought her antipathy

So fast that she changed her phrase,

Following night with day,

In an instant at ease,

Going on to say:

“I hate” (I thought of everything, too),

She said, “not you.”