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, ungrateful? 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.
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How my heart sings 
I remember this poem very well…..Popped up in my Final English Lit exam.
Prescribed the Metaphysical poets……Donne, Herbert, Marvel and Vaughan. 😉
Those are my favourite poets.And I like Benjamin Britten’s settings of Donne’s sonnets.. beautiful.You did a good degree course.:)