|
|
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!
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; 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 anchored 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.
|
|
|