The Bread and the Wine
Poem by
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 lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, 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 marred 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.
Love (III)
By George Herbert
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