An Apprehension

IF all the gentlest-hearted friends I know

Concentred in one heart their gentleness,

That still grew gentler till its pulse was less

For life than pity,--I should yet be slow

To bring my own heart nakedly below

The palm of such a friend, that he should press

Motive, condition, means, appliances,

My false ideal joy and fickle woe,

Out full to light and knowledge; I should fear

Some plait between the brows, some rougher chime

In the free voice. O angels, let your flood

Of bitter scorn dash on me ! do ye hear

What I say who hear calmly all the time

This everlasting face to face with GOD ?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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