A Sleep of Prisoners

By Christopher Fry

The human heart can go the lengths of God…
 Dark and cold we may be, but this
 Is no winter now. The frozen misery
 Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;
 The thunder is the thunder of the floes,
 The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.

Thank God our time is now when wrong
 Comes up to face us everywhere,
 Never to leave us till we take
 The longest stride of soul men ever took.

Affairs are now soul size.
 The enterprise is exploration into God.
 Where are you making for? It takes
 So many thousand years to wake…
 But will you wake, for pity’s sake?