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 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.