Love is a gentle, generous thing,
Hate has a mind of its own;
Love says nothing is first or last,
Hate hisses all is mine.
There are those that hate to love,
And those that love to hate,
Some ancient fault sunders the world,
Into a Manichaean fate.
What is now down is suddenly up,
And what is now up comes down;
Yet lovers must not cease to love,
Till all ends in frozen frown.
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