The Question
Beneath the stage’s glowing amber light,
A man of note did seek the evening’s cheer.
In shadowed boxes sat with heart contrite,
Unknowing fate would strike the one held dear.
A story told of love and tragic end,
Where laughter danced and sorrow touched the soul.
Yet in that play, a nation’s grief would blend,
And seal in night a history’s dark toll.
What tale of stage did captive gaze behold,
That drew a leader to its fateful show?
Its title echoes still through whispers cold,
A name entwined with grief we all now know.
Attend, dear reader, and your mind employ—
Which play that night did mourn a fallen boy?
The Answer
The stage bore forth a tale of joy and woe,
Where gentle hearts and fateful plots entwine.
Our American Cousin did bestow
Its comic lines upon the grand design.
Within the theatre’s laughter and its cheer,
The nation’s course was altered by a gun.
A name of play now haunted every ear,
For when it closed, the world was left undone.
Remember, then, that night of tragic fame,
Where art and history in sorrow met.
A single title burns a lasting flame,
Its echo one the world cannot forget.
The answer clear, though shadowed by the strife:
A comic play that ended Lincoln’s life.