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 answered, worthy to be here: Love said, You shall be he. I, the unkind, ungratefull? 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, said Love, who bore the blame? My dear, then I will serve. You must sit down, said Love, and taste the meat: So I did sit and eat.
George Herbert (1593–1633)