WHILE the noonday prayers were said,
For the warriors in our War,
And many bowed the head
With heavy hearts and sore,
Each with his voiceless dread,
Each with his hidden pain,
Each thinking on his own,
The living and the dead,—
Then on the pillared stone
Behind the altar, fell
A cross-shaped stain,
A shadow strong and dark
That all may mark,
And know it well,
That doth dear won salvation spell.
Awhile the sad sign stayed,
And the shadow-shape, concealed
In the hearts of them that prayed,
Stood for a space revealed.