At a history museum,
Main Street, Milford, in Pa.,
Is a giant flag with blood,
That may be Lincoln’s, on display.
Aside from that, ephemera
And lots of local lore
Wait for patrons who are visiting
To take time to explore.
I marveled at the hand-sewn quilts,
Their stitches small and neat,
And the menus from hotels, where lunch
Was forty cents to eat.
A woven cradle, clothes and hats,
Old irons, plus the boards,
And uniforms from soldiers
Were just some of the rewards
For visiting a building
Which preserves life in the past.
Who knows how long collections,
Like this treasure trove, may last?
I must admit, though, that what I
Liked best that I did see
Was the dog of the director,
Just as friendly as could be.
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