O Captain! My Captain

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 flug — 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 or 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.