The day John Kennedy was shot, <br /> He bowed his wounded head... <br /> His wife embraced him frantically, <br /> Her lap, a martyr's bed. <br /> Within the hour he was gone.... <br /> She kissed a last good-bye. <br /> A world in dismal disbelief <br /> Was heard, softly, to cry. <br /> <br /> The final sacrifice she offered <br /> Was her wedding band... <br /> She took it from her finger, <br /> And placed it in his hand. <br /> So, thus began the journey home <br /> For freedom's leader, slain.... <br /> Two children there would never see <br /> Their dad alive again. <br /> <br /> As line of march began to form, <br /> With caisson, flag, and band, <br /> His little girl brushed back a tear, <br /> And held her mother's hand. <br /> His little boy, three years that day, <br /> Then gave one last salute, <br /> As widow, throng, and nations joined <br /> In wonderful tribute. <br /> <br /> A million mourners lined the road; <br /> And whispered last farewells, <br /> As millions more around the world <br /> Would hear the tolling bells. <br /> His grave is 'cross the river now, <br /> On Arlingtons' hillside, <br /> Where burns a soft 'eternal flame, ' <br /> A symbol of our pride. <br /> <br /> The crowds go there to meditate <br /> On how they loved him best, <br /> To pray that his immortal soul <br /> May have eternal rest. <br /> <br /> <br />(Written at my home in Vienna, Virginia, <br />during the four days we mourned <br />President Kennedy's tragic death in November 1963.)<br /><br />Frank V. Gardner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/john-kennedy-eternal-rest/
