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, Thou shalt 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?
True, Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it deserves.
And dost thou not know, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
Thou must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat.
So I did sit and eat.
George Herbert (1593-1633)
