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Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Элизабет Барретт Браунинг)


Sonnet 24. Let The World's Sharpness, Like A Clasping Knife


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. 



Elizabeth Barrett Browning's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 15. Accuse Me Not, Beseech Thee, That I Wear
  2. Sonnet 16. And Yet, Because Thou
  3. Sonnet 32. The First Time
  4. Grief
  5. Sonnet 17. My Poet, Thou Canst Touch


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