August 1914

The sun rose over the sweep of the hill
All bare for the gathered hay,
And a blackbird sang by the window-sill,
And a girl knelt down to pray:
‘Whom Thou hast kept through the night, O Lord,
Keep Thou safe through the day.’

The sun rose over the shell-swept height,
The guns are over the way,
And a soldier turned from the toil of the night
To the toil of another day,
And a bullet sang by the parapet
To drive in the new-turned clay.

The sun sank slow by the sweep of the hill,
They had carried all the hay,
And a blackbird sang by the window-sill,
And a girl knelt down to pray:
‘Keep Thou safe through the night, O Lord,
Whom Thou hast kept through the day.’

The sun sank slow by the shell-swept height.
The guns had prepared a way.
And a soldier turned to sleep that night
Who would not wake for the day,
And a blackbird flew from the window sill,
When a girl knelt down to pray.

May Wedderburn Cannan