The Great Sorrow

Voice of a great wind, of wild ocean surges, Storming the gates of Heaven, The people of God singing under the scourges Wherewith they are healed and shriven. This is no sound, no wail of lamentation Such as of old was heard When Rachael cried to Heaven her desolation Until all Heaven was stirred. The people sing, crushed in the wine-press ruddy, Broken but not dismayed, The triumph-song of the soul over the body Heaven-lifted, angel-stayed. The white sorrow homes to the heavenly portal. This grief, this grief has wings -- Blood on her breast, but through the groves immortal Her song of triumph rings.