Love (III)

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 marr'd them: let my shame

                  Go where it does 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.