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.

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...