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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 29 (search)
and low, and meek. Her gentle form was near him, her footstep he could mark, “But 'tis growing very dark, mother — mother — very dark.” And the eye that once had kindled, flashing forth with patriot light, Slowly gazing, vainly strove to pierce the gathering gloom of night, Ah! poor soldier — oh! fond mother, you are severed now for aye, Cold and pulseless, there he lies now, where he breathed his life away. Through this heavy cloud of sorrow shines there not one heavenly spark? Ah! it has grown dark, mother — very, very dark. Gather round him, soldiers, gather, fold his hands and close his eyes, Near another one is dying, “Rally round our flag!” he cries; “Heaven protect it — fight on, comrades, speedily avenge our death!” Then his voice grew low and faltering, slowly came each painful breath. Two brave forms lay side by side there; Death had loved a shining mark, And two sad mothers say, “It has grown dark, ah! very dark.” Salem, Ind., July 3, 1861