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.
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