Representative Poetry Online

Random Poem of the Day

2The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
3The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
4While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
5   But O heart! heart! heart!
6       O the bleeding drops of red,
7Where on the deck my Captain lies,
8   Fallen cold and dead.
9O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
10Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
11For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
12For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
13   Here Captain! dear father!
14       This arm beneath your head!
15It is some dream that on the deck,
16   You've fallen cold and dead.
17My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
18My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
19The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
20From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
21   Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
22       But I with mournful tread,
23Walk the deck my Captain lies,
24   Fallen cold and dead.


1] President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated April 14, 1865, in the Ford Theatre, Washington, D.C. Back to Line