XXIV <br /> <br />Let the world's sharpness, like a clasping knife, <br />Shut in upon itself and do no harm <br />In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm, <br />And let us hear no sound of human strife <br />After the click of the shutting. Life to life— <br />I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm, <br />And feel as safe as guarded by a charm <br />Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife <br />Are weak to injure. Very whitely still <br />The lilies of our lives may reassure <br />Their blossoms from their roots, accessible <br />Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer, <br />Growing straight, out of man's reach, on the hill. <br />God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-24-let-the-world-s-sharpness-like-a-clasp/
