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 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!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
You've 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;

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

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;

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;

My Captain does not answer his lips are pale and still
My father does not feel my arm he has no pulse nor will
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;

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



Credits
Writer(s): Walt Whitman, David Broza
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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