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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  
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! Leave you not the little spot, 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  
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces  
O captain! dear father! This arm I push beneath you; 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: But the ship, the ship is anchor'd safe, its voyage closed and  
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won: Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with silent tread, Walk the spot my captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
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