Thursday, 12 September 2013

Love (III) by George Herbert

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 any thing.

A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here :
                              Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkinde, 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, sayes Love, and taste my meat :
                              So I did sit and eat.

The Works of George Herbert, ed. by F. E. Hutchinson (Oxford: Clarendon, 1941), 188-9.

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