The firemen knew they were come to the end of it all,—
They were beaten, the roof must fall.
Hands laid hold upon Guion: “You can’t go back!”
But he answered, “I’ll stand by!”
And again through the tumult—hark!
Shrill, oh pitiful-shrill,
The throb of the bell that summoned, the agony-thrill,
Calling,—it fell on his soul like the sting of a spark.
“One more trip!” said Guion; and steady and swift
Mounted the man and the lift.