O Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! My Captain!
- Walt Whitman

O Captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought in won,

The port is near, teh bells I hear, the people are all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady kneel, the vessel grim and darling;

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 the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquet and ribbion'd wreaths - for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! ar father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage colsed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.