Still Falls the Rain


Still falls the Rain---
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss---
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the cross.

Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the
     hammerbeat
In the Potters' Field, and the sound of the impious feet
On the Tomb:
          Still falls the Rain
In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the  
     human brain
Nurtures its greed, that worm with brow of Cain.

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us---
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the ggold are as one.

Still falls the Rain---
Stell falls the Blood from the Starved Man's wounded Side
He bears in his Heart all wounds, ---those of the light that died,
The last faint spark
In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad
     uncomprehending dark,
The wounds of the baited bear, ---
The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
On his helpless flesh . . . . the tears of the hunted hare.

Still falls the Rain---
Then---O Ile leape up to my God: who pulles me doune---
See, see where Christ's blood streames in the firmament:
It flows from the Brow we nailed upon the tree
Deep to the dying, to the thirsting heart
That holds the fires of the worldm, ---dark-smirched with pain
As Caesar's laurel crown.

Then sounds the voice of One who like the heart of man 
Was once a child who among beasts has lain---
'Still do I love, still shed my innocent light, my Blood, for thee.'
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