Pent Poem by Louisa Sarah Bevington

TAKE me to some waste of being,
Virgin spaces, dark and far,
Seas no vessel ever burdened,
Skies that never held a star;
There, my inmost soul all weeping,
I may loose for Being's keeping
Strange, abysmal thoughts that are.

Let me stand, alone, unguarded,
On some crag where fierce floods beat;
Let hoarse tempest crash and echo,
Storm-fire lick about my feet;
In the hollow air of thunder
I may shout my soul asunder,
One pent syllable repeat.

Let me sink where waves are deepest,
Die from memory and air;
Let effacing billows deafen
Question, when I lived, or where;
Only first be mine to murmur
Thrice, and ever fiercely firmer,
For I must--one life-pent prayer.