Wednesday, July 11, 2007

John Donne poem: Love

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 closer to me sweetly quesitonaing if I lacked anything.



A guest I answered worthy to be here

Love said, then you shall be he.

I the unkind, ungrateful ah my dear

I cannot look on thee