There in a hurricane of shot and shell,

One-half of its surviving numbers fell;

'Twas thus Cold Harbor's quarry made complete

The trio of victorious defeat.

Three Southern victories, yet like a knell

Upon the Southern ear these triumphs fell;

For those who perished in that dismal waste,

Had fallen and could never be replaced.

Though stubbornly contested inch by inch,

The lines were tightened like a horse's cinch.