O Captain! My Captain!

Maoriland Worker, Volume 13, Issue 36, 5 September 1923, Page 1

O Captain! My Captain!

(Th s assassination of Abraham Lincoln, Presidieat. of the United States, in April, 1865, was one of the world's most distressing tragedies, for," as a great patriot iaad leader, he had piloted his country safely its terrible war for .freedom. Walt Whitman, a great and highly original poet, wh 0 wrote this passionate and "thrilling lament, - went through tho war as a follower oi Lincoln on the anti-slavery side, so that tho deep sjOid intensely personal tone of the poem's in no wiay out of place.) -•*"' O Captain! my Captain! Our fearful strip 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 bl&ied'ng drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Cap am! Rise up and [ hear the bells; Rise up—for-you the flag is flung—• For you the bugle trills; For you bouqucits and ribboned wreaths, For you the shores a-crowding;. For ycu they call, the swaying mass, Their eager faces turn-ng; Here, Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is somia dream 'that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips ar-e pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, Ho has no pulse nor w-11; The ship is anchorr-d safe and sound, Its voyage closed and done; From fearful tr-p, the victor ship, Comes ±n with object ..won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful treaQ, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.