LOVE (III)
by George Herbert
Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew
back,
Guilty of dust and
sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow
slack
From my first entrance
in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly
questioning
If I lack'd
anything.
"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be
here";
Love said, "You shall be
he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my
dear,
I cannot look on
thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did
reply,
"Who made the eyes but
I?"
"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my
shame
Go where it doth
deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the
blame?"
"My dear, then I will
serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my
meat."
So I did sit and eat.
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