Артур Кристофер Бенсон (Arthur Christopher Benson)

Prayer

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 hound’s strong feet thrust imminent through the corn, 
  So to my God I turned: and I had forgotten Him. 
 
Into the night I breathed a prayer like a soaring fire;—         
  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. 
 
What was the answer? This—the horrible depth of night, 
  And deeper, as ever I peer, the huge cliff’s mountainous shade,       
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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