The Walt Whitman Archive
Published Works
Books by Whitman
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [begin page 13b] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
—————
1
O CAPTAIN! my captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is
won;
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!Leave you not the little spot,
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;
a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces
turning;
O captain! dear father!turning;
This arm I push beneath you;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
3
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
done;
done;
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.