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　　O Captain! My Captain!
　　Walt Whitman (1819–1892)

　　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 Captai