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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539165" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet 145: Those lips that Love's own hand did make</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539165" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Those lips that Love's own hand did make<br>Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate"<br>To me that languished for her sake;<br>But when she saw my woeful state,<br>Straight in her heart did mercy come,<br>Chiding that tongue that ever sweet<br>Was used in giving gentle doom,<br>And taught it thus anew to greet:<br>"I hate" she altered with an end,<br>That followed it as gentle day<br>Doth follow night, who like a fiend<br>From heaven to hell is flown away.<br> "I hate" from hate away she threw,<br> And saved my life, saying "not you."</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Shakespeare">William Shakespeare</a></strong></div>

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