O Captain! My Captain!
by
Walt Whitman


O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered 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;
ÊÊÊÊBut O heart! heart! heart!
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊO the bleeding drops of red, 
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ Where on the deck my Captain lies,
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ ÊÊÊFallen 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 ribboned wreaths--for you the shores accrowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
ÊÊÊÊHere Captain! dear father!
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊThis arm beneath your head!
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊIt is some dream that on the deck
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊYou'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 anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
ÊÊÊÊExult O shores, and ring O bells!
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊBut I, with mournful tread,
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊWalk the deck my Captain lies,
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊFallen cold and dead.