Heavy Burdens Poem by Ima Ryma

I was in the State Bedroom, and
Held Abe's boy, Willie, as he died
Of typhoid. Grief gripped in hard hand
And tore apart Lincoln inside.
Never again did Lincoln walk
Into that room, and the years passed,
Till then struck the tragedy clock.
The President returned at last,
Carried to me, fatally shot.
Mrs. Lincoln could only wail,
As life saving, the doctors sought.
Their efforts were to no avail.

Lincolns - son and father both dead
On me, the Lincoln Bedroom bed.