Dark as the world of man, black as our loss
Blind as 1940 nails upon the cross
With a sound like pulse of the heart
that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the potter's field, and the sound
at the impious feet in the tomb
still falls the rain
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."
-yooe