passed on by the family from generation to generation.

Anyway, mia, thanks for the post. Very interesting.

No photos exist from the death bed with him in it, and Secretary Stanton would not in a million years have allowed one with Mary in the room.

Mary was hysterical and kept out of the room most of the time. In any event, if that many people had actually been present in the very small room when Lincoln died, many of them would have had to be standing on the bed.

Of the prodigy and crime,
When they killed him in his pity,
When they killed him in his prime
Of clemency and calm—
When with yearning he was filled
To redeem the evil-willed,
And, though conqueror, be kind;
But they killed him in his kindness,
In their madness and their blindness,
And they killed him from behind.

There is sobbing of the strong,
And a pall upon the land;
But the People in their weeping
Bare the iron hand:
Beware the People weeping
When they bare the iron hand.

He lieth in his blood—
The father in his face;
They have killed him, the Forgiver—
The Avenger takes his place,
The Avenger wisely stern,
Who in righteousness shall do
What heavens call him to,
And the parricides remand;
For they killed him in his kindness,
In their madness and their blindness.
And his blood is on their hand.

There is sobbing of the strong,
And a pall upon the land;
But the People in their weeping
Bare the iron hand:
Beware the People weeping
When they bare the iron hand.

BY HERMAN MELVILLE

Oh Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

I like this one:

somehow, so beautiful

Ford's Theatre, 5111 10th St. NW, D.C. where Lincoln was shot while watching 'Our American Cousin,' April 14, 1865.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ford%27s_Theatre



Petersen House across the street, 516 10th St. NW, residence where Lincoln was taken. He died 7:22 am, April 15, 1865.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petersen_House

~ Of all the sites to see in the capital, visiting these 2 places was the most moving experience by far. Well worth the trip.



Lincoln assassination artifacts, Ford's Theatre exhibit.