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Love (III)

by George Herbert

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
                            Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
                            From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
                            If I lacked any thing.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
                            Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, 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 marred 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.