“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 ribbon’d wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding: For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear…
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