Poems (Barrett)/An Apprehension
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 bear calmly all the time This everlasting face-to-face with GOD?