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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2. (ed. Frank Moore). Search the whole document.

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Ohio (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 29
can. His arm hung shattered by his side, and he was bleeding to death. His last words brought tears to the eyes of all around. He murmured, It grows very dark, mother — very dark. Poor fellow, his thoughts were far away at his peaceful home in Ohio.--Cincinnati Gazette. The crimson tide was ebbing, and the pulse grew weak and faint, But the lips of that brave soldier scorned e'en now to make complaint; “Fall in rank!” a voice called to him — calm and low was his reply: “Yes, if I can, I'he spot where the dying soldier lay, To catch the broken accents he was struggling then to say; And a change came o'er the features where death had set his mark-- “It is growing very dark, mother — very dark.” Far away his mind had wandered, to Ohio's hills and vales, Where the loved ones watched and waited with that love that never fails; He was with them as in childhood, seated in the cottage door, Where he watched the evening shadows slowly creeping on the floor; Bend down closely
Salem, Ind. (Indiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 29
nd 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, 1
July 3rd, 1861 AD (search for this): chapter 29
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