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 answer'd, '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 marr'd 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.