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 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.