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.