to Robin McLaurin Williams (Jul. 21,
1951-Aug. 11, 2014)
O Captain! My Captain!
BY WALT WHITMAN
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 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!
The 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 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.
Source: Leaves of Grass (David
McKay, 1891)
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