1861

On Good Friday,1861,
Fort Sumter was the first decision done,
Soon disintegration of father, brother and son,
Lincoln made his choice and then,
Down went more than 600 thousand men.

On Good Friday 1865,
Hell spawned a dream Lincoln would tell,
He dreamt of sailing to an unknown horizon,
Four years to the day, having freed the slave,
Lincoln was shot, his destination- the grave.

poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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