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The storm clouds that had long lain dark and deep
Across our skies, grim garb for England’s brow,
The distant thunder lulling us to sleep
Crashed through our dreams at last.

Youth from his plough,
From desk and school, was swiftly called away
To march in swinging lines or sweat in tanks,
To sweep across the skies or toil through day
And night in noisy workshops, where the ranks
Of great machines stamp out the rhythms
Of our latent power.

Youth went at once;
Yet just as fast came women from their homes
To fill the vacant spaces with a smile.
Ships had there lovers, lorries, tanks and trains
Drew others, while very many more
Forsook there firesides to make guns and planes
And shells and all the dreadful instruments of war.
Some craved another life and took their stand
At gun sites with the men. These too are praised,
Proudly portrayed on posters through the land,
Calling their sisters, come share our work
It is the best.

Yet there were others
Who when darkness came and blotted out the light,
Chose for their part of ‘blood and toil’ a new
And less dramatic task; yet one that might
When all is done and even war has died,
Be counted equal with the very best.

At first by weeks of waiting they were tried
With endless preparations for their test.
Until at last those nights the craven Hun
Crazed by his undiminished power murdered sleep
Blasting his victims from their ravaged homes
Into the hopeless streets.

While frightened children weep,
And terror screams across the stars, and the moon
Leads more than lovers home. Then through the fire
And horror of the night bravely they go;
Taking the injured up and do not tire.
But with quiet words of comfort treat them so
They might forget their pain.

Then in the chill and misty morning light
Beside the ruins in the smoking town they wait there still
For those yet buried by the bombs — and those
Who do not know — nor cannot ever learn
What courage was required to see and hold
And wrap their shattered limbs and carry them
In dreary cortege through the rain and cold.

G.A.G. Miller 1941

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