A love poem
No, this is not a romantic love poem. It’s God stuff. What else could one post on Palm Sunday afternoon?
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.
George Herbert, The Temple (1633)
I was reminded of this by a commenter on Facebook, who said — speaking of the current competition between Julian of Norwich and George Herbert — that anyone thinking of voting for Julian should read Love (III). Couldn’t agree more. You’ve read it now.
So go vote for George!
Oh, I’ve heard these words. Ralph Vaughn Williams had something to do with it.