[In the following essay, Otis compares the language in“Because What I Want Most Is Permanence” to a river flowing ever deeper, “offering tranquility and continuity.”]

Because what I want most is permanence,
The long unwinding and continuous flow
Of subterranean rivers out of sense,
That nourish arid landscapes with their blue—
Poetry, prayer, or call it what you choose
That frees the complicated act of will
And makes the whole world both intense and still—
I set my mind to artful work and craft,
I set my heart on friendship, hard and fast
Against the wild inflaming wink of chance
And all sensations opened in a glance.
Oh blue Atlantis where the sailors dream
Their girls under the waves and in the foam—
I move another course. I'll not look down.
Because what I want most is permanence,
What I do best is bury fire now,
To bank the blaze within, and out of sense,
Where hidden fires and rivers burn and flow,
Create a world that is still and intense.
I come to you with only the straight gaze.
These are not hours of fire but years of praise,
The glass full to the brim, completely full,
But held in balance so no drop can spill.

—“Because What I Want Most is Permanence”

“Because What I Want Most Is Permanence,” by May Sarton, is a plea for depth and solidity. The poem celebrates safety, not as found in stagnation, but rather in a rich and balanced existence. The poet has decided how to lead her life and relationships, and in her poem she commits herself to that decision. She is turning her path away from one of flashiness, passion, and superficiality, realizing the value of developing a strong core and a sense of consistency.

A tranquil, eternally flowing river illustrates the temperament that the narrator is seeking. It is a subterranean river whose excitement is found not in violent currents or rapids, but in a smooth unwinding. The river grows “out of sense.” Its sources are common sense and sensitivity, and the narrator wants to incorporate these gifts into her soul. She is nourished by the river as it becomes a stronger part of herself. Her body that was once charmed by powerful waves and scintillating flames has been dried out. As the “arid landscape” is revived by the vivacity of the river, the narrator is also given new life. Her soul absorbs the moisture and swells with its richness. The soil, which has exhausted its resources, has become parched and cracked. It cannot be saved by occasional splashes of water. The damaged earth needs a constant, gentle flow of water that can slowly spread its nourishment according to the soil's needs and ability to absorb.

The narrator has chosen this river as her salvation and model. She has made it a part of herself. As the river flows forward, it grows deeper. It becomes an increasingly significant factor in the choices that she makes and in the way that she leads her life. The river is the narrator's continually evolving core, a classic symbol of the subconscious. It is not enough, though, for the river to flow inexorably within. It needs an outlet, and this is found in poetry, “or call it what you choose.” “Poetry” is a means of capturing the richness of moments, of freeing one's desires and beliefs. It is the creation of active description that gives both intensity and permanence. May Sarton's verse imitates the flow of the river, offering the same tranquillity and continuity, richness and nourishment. The poet also describes her poetry as a prayer. She here accounts for a person's continual need for guidance and strength against the superficial world of waves and dancing flames. A wave has no permanence. It must inevitably break against the shore or sink back into the constant rocking of the ocean. Lasting value can be discovered, however, in the magnitude of the ocean, as in the “long unwinding” path of the river.

The narrator finds her own means of devoting herself to enduring values. “I set my mind to artful work and craft, / I set my heart on friendship, hard and fast / Against the wild inflaming wink of chance / And all sensations opened in a glance.” Artful work could be the act of writing poetry, but more generally, an effort to observe, discern, and absorb. It is an active search for genuine meaning and worth, just as setting one's heart on friendship is a search for valuable and honest human relations. The narrator is fighting the fickle world of short-lived enthusiasms and flirtation, the flickering flame of chance and simplistic visions. She is turning her back on “Atlantis,” turning away from this lost city, from the world of dreams and its cheap love that is enhanced only by an exciting surrounding. The narrator has chosen another path. She will not look into the agitated waves for her dreams, but into her stable river, into her own strength and resources.

Open fire, like a wave, lacks permanence. It flickers, grows, glares, and dies. Its heat and endurance are insignificant when compared with those of a controlled, hidden fire. A hand can pass through a bright flame without suffering from its heat. It is near the glowing embers, in the heart of the fire, that the heat is overpowering. The narrator realizes that such fire can be integrated into the soul. When buried within, the wild flames are subdued, leaving only a slow, constant burn that emanates great warmth and power.

That buried fire, with the depth of the winding river, creates a world of intensity, importance, and constancy. And it is from this world that the narrator finally approaches the second character of the poem. She goes to her directly and openly to admit her affections, swearing they are genuine. “These are not hours of fire but years of praise.” Her admiration is not a temporary flirtation that will fade as a wave breaks on the shore or a flame snaps and retreats. It is the culmination of years of growth and effort. The narrator's love is a “glass full to the brim, completely full, / But held in balance so no drop can spill.” She is able to maintain her affection, balancing the glass perfectly. The narrator has created a strong core and given herself solidity. She has attained the constant flow and burn of water and fire. She has achieved an equilibrium, a sense of permanence.