Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917. |
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269. Prayer |
By Arthur Christopher Benson (b. 1862) |
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MY sorrow had pierced me through; it throbbed in my heart like a thorn; | |
This way and that I stared, as a bird with a broken limb | |
Hearing the hounds strong feet thrust imminent through the corn, | |
So to my God I turned: and I had forgotten Him. | |
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Into the night I breathed a prayer like a soaring fire; | 5 |
So to the windswept cliff the resonant rocket streams, | |
And it struck its mark, I know; for I felt my flying desire | |
Strain, like a rope drawn home, and catch in the land of dreams. | |
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What was the answer? Thisthe horrible depth of night, | |
And deeper, as ever I peer, the huge cliffs mountainous shade, | 10 |
While the frail boat cracks and grinds, and never a star in sight, | |
And the seething waves smite fiercer;and yet I am not afraid. | |
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