Stands like a phantom ’mid the horrid glare,

Her pale, sweet face against the window pressed,

While sobs of terror shake her tender breast.

And from the crowd beneath, in accents wild,

A mother screams, “O God! my child, my child!”

Up goes a ladder! Through the startled throng

A hardy fireman swiftly moves along,

Mounts sure and fast along the slender way,

Fearing no danger, dreading but delay.

The stifling smoke-clouds lower in his path,

Sharp tongues of flame assail him in their wrath;

But up, still up he goes! The goal is won,

His strong arm beats the sash, and he is gone,—

Gone to his death. The wily flames surround,

And burn and beat his ladder to the ground;

In flaming columns move with quickened beat,

To rear a massive wall ’gainst his retreat.

Courageous heart, thy mission was so pure,

Suffering humanity must thy loss deplore:

Henceforth with martyred heroes thou shalt live,

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