[Filed Jan 21, 1863]
[883]
Heart Melodies
A New set of Songs
Composed by
S. Wesley Martin.

[1] AWAKENED MEMORIES
[2] THE SONG MY MOTHER SANG
[3] THE DYING MINSTRELL
[4] IT GROWS VERY DARK MOTHER
[5] MILL MAY

[6] COME IN THE MOONBEAMS'S LIGHT. Quartette.
[7] GENTLE ANNIE RAY
[8] SWEET WAS THE MOONLIGHT HOUR LOVE
[9] IN THE GRAVE-YARD SOFTLY SLEEPING

[No. 4]
"It Grows Very Dark, Mother, Very Dark"
[c1861; 21 Jan 1863; 17 Aug 1864]

	At a battle in Western Virginia, one of the soldiers was 
ordered to fall in rank.  He answered quietly,— “I will if I 
can.”— His arm hung shattered by his side, and he was bleeding 
to death.
	He did bleed to death.  His last words brought tears to 
the eyes of all around, while he murmured,— “It grows very 
dark, Mother, very dark.”—  Poor fellow, his thoughts were far 
away at his peaceful home in Ohio.

[Words-- anonymous]
Composed by S. Wesley Martin.

Chicago, IL: H. M. HIGGINS, 117 Randolph St.
[25933]
[M 1640
  .M]
[COPYRIGHT
17 Aug 1864
LIBRARY]
[1863]
[Engraver] Pearson.
[Source: civilwardigital.com]

1. The crimson tide was ebbing, and the pulse grew weak and faint,
But the lips of that brave soldier scorned e’n now to make complaint;—
“Fall in rank.”— a voice called to him— calm and low was his replu;—
“Yes, if I can I’ll do it— I will do it though I die.”
"Yes,  if I can I’ll do it— I will do it though I die.”
And he murmurmed when the lifelight had died out to just a spark,
“It is growing very dark, Mother— growing very dark,”
“It is growing very dark, Mother— growing very dark,”

2. There were tears in manly eyes, then, and manly heads were bowed,
Tho’ the balls flew thick around them, and the cannon thundered loud,
They gathered round the spot where the dying soldier lay,
To catch the broken accents he was struggling then to say,
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 gorwing very dark, Mother, growing very dark,
It is growing very dark, Mother, growing very dark.”

3. Far away his mind had wander’d 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;
Where he watched the evening shadows slowly creeping on the floor.
Bend down closely, comrades, closely, he is speaking now, and hark!—
”It is growing very dark, Mother, very, very dark,
It is growing very dark, Mother, very, very dark.”

4. He was dreaming of his Mother, that her loving hand was pressed
On his brow, for one short moment ere he sank away to rest;
That her l;ips were now imprinting a kis upon his cheek;
And a voice he well remembered spoke so soft, so low and meek,
And a voice he well remembered spoke so soft, so low and meek.
Her gentle form was near him, her footstep he could mark,—
“But ’tis gowing very dark, Mother, Mother— very dark,
But ’tis gowing very dark, Mother, Mother— very dark.”

5. And the eye that once had kindled, flashing forth with patriot light,
Slowly gazing, vainly strove to pierce the gath’ring gloom of night,
Ah! poor soldier— ah! fond mother, you are sever’d now for aye,
Cold and pulseless, there he lies now, where he breathed his life away,
Cold and pulseless, there he lies now, where he breathed his life away.
Thro’ this heavy cloud of sorrow shines there not one heavenly spark?—
“Ah! it has now grown dark, Mother, very, very dark,
Ah! it has now grown dark, Mother, very, very dark.”