She was torn and she was battered, and her upper works were shattered
By the bursting of the missiles that in air above her met.
Parallels of belching cannon marked the winding course she ran on,
And they flashed through morning darkness like a giant’s flaming teeth;
Waters steaming, boiling, churning; rows of muzzles at each turning;
Mines like geysers spouting after and before her and beneath.
Not a man was there who faltered; not a theory was altered
Of the detailed plan agreed on—not a doubt was there expressed;
This was not a time for changing, deviating, re-arranging;
Let the great God help the wounded, and their courage save the rest.