He Marched Away in the Gloaming

TO THE UNKNOWN DEAD OF THE WAR

HE MARCHED AWAY IN THE GLOAMING.

Will Rossiter, Publisher Chicago. New York. Copyright MCMV by Will Rossiter. 60 cents.

He Marched Away in the Gloaming. (To the Unknown Dead of the War.)

Words and Music by Edmond Louis DeLestry.

Intro. Tempo di Marcia.

1. At the garden gate, in the ev'ning shade, Stood a lad and a maiden fair; Round his stalwart form she entwined her arm, While he gently stroked her hair. "See, the country calls and my comrads wait, Do not make our parting hard;" "When the fighting's o'er," the young lover said, "I'll return again to you, sweetheart."

2. Each soldier in blue, with heart brave and true Falls in at the word of command; As the sun sinks low on their march they go To fight for their homes and their land. As she weeps at the gate she sees his form fade O'er the hill at the end of the lane; "Go, my soldier brave, the Lord bring you safe To our home and our hearts again."

3. Day and night they marched oft hungry and parched, yet with ne'er a thought but to win; In skirmish and fight leads their banner bright, And the warriors ranks grow thin. At the Wilderness fight when gath'red the night They anxiously called his name; But none could tell, where our hero fell, For never an answer came.

Copyright MCMV, by Will Rossiter. Entered according to act of the Parliament of Canada in the year MCMV, by Will Rossiter at the department of Agriculture.

Chorus. A tempo.

1.2.3. And he march'd away in the gloaming, as the bugles sounded clear, At the gate, in anguish moaning, stood the girl he loved so dear; To the fields of fiercest battle Where the country call'd he would go, 'Midst the

shells and muskets rattle, more than forty years ago.

4. The years have gone by and dimned is her eye, and white are the tresses once fair, But at each twilight shade she would go to the gate while

gently murm'ring a prayer; But for her not the joy to welcome her boy who gallantly march'd away. In an unmark'd grave with the countless brave, he waits for the judgment day.

4th Chorus. Piu lento.

He sleeps alone in the gloaming, Beneath the southern

skies, The pines and the cypress moaning His requiem where he lies, No more the march and battle his presence now shall know, 'Midst the shells and muskets rattle died a hero years ago.

A Patriotic March Song. Words and Music by Edmond Louis DeLestry