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Walt Whitman -
O Captain! My Captain!

Suggested to me by my poetry-loving friend.  I seem to have quite a few with a nautical sound to them now.

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; 20
    Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
     But I, with mournful tread,
      Walk the deck my Captain lies,
       Fallen cold and dead.

Last updated: 31/10/2005 This work is licenced under a Creative Commons Licence. ©2004 R GillinCreative Commons Licence