O Captain! My Captain! - Walt Whitman

[Lawrence Robinson]

O Captain! My Captain!



O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;	 
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;	 
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 a-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 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 closed 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.	 

	- Walt Whitman
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