They are flashing a signal—our loved one’s replies—

They are lost had the guns been delayed but an hour.

Like a cyclone they open and thunder their doom

And the flame from their mouths is the light in our gloom!

IX.

Battery F opened up like a hell,

With a roar like a lion—a serpent’s fierce hiss—

Solid shot under! above with the shell!

Gates were not made to be pounded like this.

Trembles the portal—with a shot it is gone—