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 lack’d anything

“A guest,” I answered, “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 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.


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