Diary of Julia Ward Howe: Wednesday April 19, 1865

The day of President Lincoln's funeral. A sad, disconnected day. I could not work, but strolled around to see the houses, variously draped in black and white. Went to Bartol's church, not knowing of a service at our own. Bartol's remarks were tender and pathetic. I was pleased to have heard them.

Wrote some verses about the President — pretty good, perhaps, — scratching the last nearly in the dark, just before bedtime.

This is the poem called “Parricide.” It begins: —

O'er the warrior gauntlet grim

Late the silken glove we drew.

Bade the watch-fires slacken dim

In the dawn's auspicious hue.

Staid the armed heel;

Still the clanging steel;

Joys unwonted thrilled the silence through.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards & Maud Howe Elliott, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, Large-Paper Edition, Volume 1, p. 221