Can’t believe
the weekend’s already over L
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CXLV
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 us'd in giving gentle doom;
And taught it thus anew to greet;
'I hate' she alter'd with an end,
That followed 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'.
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Okay, an
exceptionally early volta: It’s the but at the beginning of line 4. That’s partly compensated by delaying the
rest of the direct speech to the last two words of the poem.
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