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. |
