Edith Sitwell

POETRY: Still Falls the Rain, by Dame Edith Sitwell

March 28, 2013

(The Raids, 1940, Night and Dawn) 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 hammer-beat 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 the 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 gold are as one. Still falls the Rain— Still falls the Blood from [...]