O Captain! My Captain!

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Whitman's notes for a revision of "O Captain! My Captain!"
Whitman's notes for a revision of "O Captain! My Captain!"

"O Captain! My Captain" is a poem by Walt Whitman dedicated to Abraham Lincoln.

[edit] Background and analysis

Walt Whitman wrote the poem after Abraham Lincoln's assassination. He admired Abraham Lincoln and was saddened by his death. In the poem, Lincoln is represented by the captain and the United States of America is the ship. The ship has endured obstacles such as Civil War; everything is over, and there is peace. The speaker is feeling bittersweet about the victory.

The poem begins with an image of a ship returning safely to port. Crying out for his captain, the speaker realizes the captain has died at sea. The onlookers onshore celebrate the ship's safe return, but the speaker mourns the death of his captain. As the voyage ends, so does the captain's life.[citation needed]

With a conventional meter and rhyme scheme that is unusual for Whitman, it was also the only poem anthologized during Whitman's lifetime. [1]

[edit] Audio Version

Image:OcaptainMyCaptain.ogg


[edit] Full text

O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d 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 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 anchor’d 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.
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