'Let go aft' . . . and out she slides, <br />Pitching when she meets the tides . . . <br />She for whom our cruisers keep <br />Lordly vigil in the deep . . . <br />Sink or swim, lads, war or no, <br />Let the poor old hooker go! <br /> <br />Soon, hull down, will England's shore, <br />Smudged and faint, be seen no more: <br />Soon the following gulls return <br />Where the friendly docklights burn . . . <br />Soon the cold stars, climbing high, <br />March across the empty sky . . . <br />Empty seas beyond her bow <br />(Lord, she's on her lonesome now!) <br /> <br />When the white fog, stooping low, <br />Folds in darkness friend and foe . . . <br />When the fast great liners creep <br />Veiled and silent through the deep . . . <br />When the hostile searchlight's eye <br />Sweeps across the midnight sky <br />Lord of light and darkness, then <br />Stretch Thy wing o'er merchantmen! <br /> <br />When the waters known of old <br />Death in dreadful shape may hold . . . <br />When the mine's black treachery <br />Secret walks the insulted sea . . . <br />(Lest the people wait in vain <br />For their cattle and their grain), <br />Since Thy name is mercy, then, <br />Lord, be kind to merchantmen!<br /><br />Cicely Fox Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/war-risks/
