XXIV
Let the world's sharpness, like a clasping knife,
Shut in upon itself and do no harm
In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,
And let us hear no sound of human strife
After the click of the shutting. Life to life—
I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,
And feel as safe as guarded by a charm
Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife
Are weak to injure. Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer,
Growing straight, out of man's reach, on the hill.
God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
More verses by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
- Sonnet 11 - And Therefore If To Love Can Be Desert
- Sonnets From The Portuguese I
- Sonnet 35 - If I Leave All For Thee, Wilt Thou Exchange
- To Flush, My Dog
- Sonnet 22 - When Our Two Souls Stand Up Erect And Strong