six o'clock
Halfway up it there was a wide , broad ledge -- just the place for a bed . I did not take long to reach it , and , pulling some loose hay over myself in case it grew chilly at dawn , I said my prayers -- they were real prayers that night -- and was soon asleep in my soft , fragrant bed . The sun woke me , shining hot on my nest . I looked at my watch , it was six o'clock . Thrushes and blackbirds were singing their hearts out , swallows were darting by , high in air a lark was hovering right above my head , with quivering wings , singing his morning hymn of praise . I knelt , up there on the hayrick , and let my thanks go with his to heaven 's gate . I had never felt such a keen sense of gratitude as I did that summer morning : the dangers of the night all past and over , and a beautiful new day given to me , and only seven miles and a half between me and home .