Our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack,
the prize we sought is won;
The Port is near, the Bell I hear.
the people are exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel,
the vessel grim and daring;
But O Heart! Heart! Heart!
O the Bleeding drop of Red,
Where on the deck my captain lies
fallen, cold and dead.
Oh Captain! My Captain!
Rise up and hear the Bells!
Rise up...for the flag is flung...
For you the bugle trills;
For you the bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths
....For you the shores a crowding...
For you they call, the swaying mass
their eager face a 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,
his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm,
he has no pulse or will;
The ship is anchor's save and sound,
It's voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip, the victor ship
comes in with the object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring O Bells
But I mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies
Fallen Cold and Dead.
