Love III

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,        Guiltie of dust and sinne.

But quick-ey'd 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 unkinde, the ungratefull?

Ah my deare,      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, sayes Love, who bore the blame?      My deare, then I will serve.

You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:      So I did sit and eat.

Glorie be to God on high, and on earth peace,            good will towards men.