Poetry as pain reliever

I read this morning that Simone Weil, French philosopher and mystic (1909-1943), battled the pain from frequent migraine headaches by reciting over and over again the poem "Love" by George Herbert (1593–1632).

LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,  

      Guilty of dust and sin.  

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack  

      From my first entrance in,  

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning          

      If I lack'd anything.  

'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:'  

     Love said, 'You shall be he.'  

'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,  

      I cannot look on Thee.'   

Love took my hand and smiling did reply,  

      'Who made the eyes but I?'  

'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame  

      Go where it doth deserve.'  

'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?'  

      'My dear, then I will serve.'  

'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'  

      So I did sit and eat.

The book in which I read this (Remarkable Women, Remarkable Wisdom: A Daybook of Reflections by Mary Frances Gangloff) said that in the recitation "she experienced the mystical presence of Christ's love in her affliction."