Walt Whitman
- O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done; the ship has weathered 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.
