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O Captain! My Captain!
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Walt Whitman (from Leaves of Grass, 1867 edition, first published in Saturday Press, New York, 1865)
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            1

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.

            2

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.

            3

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.
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Poems of Sailors and Seafarers > Table of Contents

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Poems for President Lincoln collection > Table of Contents

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Profile of the author > American Bard of Liberation Walt Whitman
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