• Home
  • fudLog
  • Colophon
  • Contact
  • Subscribe
  • Posts
  • Comments
  • Privacy Policy

  • Welcome to shethLog

  • O Captain! my Captain!

    I. 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.
    But O heart! heart! heart!
    O the bleeding drops of red!
    Where on the deck my Captain lies,
    Fallen cold and dead.

    II. 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 a-crowding:
    For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning.
    O Captain! dear father!
    This arm beneath your head;
    It is some dream that on the deck,
    You’ve fallen cold and dead.

    III. 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

    by Walt Whitman