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 anything.

　　 "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.

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