{"id":793,"date":"2013-08-18T21:28:42","date_gmt":"2013-08-19T04:28:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/?p=793"},"modified":"2016-04-27T15:33:16","modified_gmt":"2016-04-27T22:33:16","slug":"0818","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/2013\/08\/18\/0818\/","title":{"rendered":"0818"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

0818
\nA ship arriving too late to save a drowning Walt Whitman<\/p>\n

O Captain! My Captain! <\/strong>
\nBy Walt Whitman<\/p>\n

1
\nO CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
\nThe ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
\nThe port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
\nWhile follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
\nBut O heart! heart! heart!
\nO the bleeding drops of red,
\nWhere on the deck my Captain lies,
\nFallen cold and dead. <\/p>\n

2
\nO Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
\nRise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
\nFor you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
\nFor you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
\nHere Captain! dear father!
\nThis arm beneath your head;
\nIt is some dream that on the deck,
\nYou’ve fallen cold and dead. <\/p>\n

3
\nMy Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
\nMy father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
\nThe ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
\nFrom fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
\nExult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
\nBut I, with mournful tread,
\nWalk the deck my Captain lies,
\nFallen cold and dead.<\/p>\n