Love III

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, 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.