oh, captain! my captain!---by walt whitman
captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done,
the ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is worn,
the port is near, the bells i hear, the people all exulting,
while follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
but o heart! heart! heart!
o the bleeding drops of red!
where on the deck my captain lies,
fallen cold and dead.
o captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells;
rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills,
for you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores crowding,
for you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
here, captain! dear father!
this arm beneath your head;
it is some dream that on the deck
you've fallen cold and dead.
my captai n does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
my father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse or will;
the ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
from fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
exult, o shores! and ring, o bell!
but i, with mournful tread,
walk the deck my captain lies,
fallen cold and dead. |