The Unappeasable Host Comments

I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast, And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me. O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet. This is hauntingly beautiful. I remember those days with a crying child rocking in my arms. How all the expanse of the universe can condense down to insignificance next to the voice of a single, tiny child in my arms.