O Captain, My Captain - Walt Whitman

I realize that Presidents' Day is meant to commemorate the lives of the presidents rather than their deaths, but as this is one of the most famous presidential poems out there, I felt it was appropriate to share it today.  Anyhow, the devotion and love that the poem expresses for President Lincoln is a fitting tribute on the day meant in part to memorialize him.

With its adherence to fairly regular meter and rhyme, his poem is so unlike most of Whitman's rather obnoxious fare, yet, with delightful irony, it is also one of his best-known works!

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.

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 ribboned 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.

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 anchored 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.