William Shakespeare

Sonnet 145: "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 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' Believed to be Shakespeare oldest surviving poem.