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.
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.
Walt Whitman
Personally I have not read much of Whitman's work preferring Poe and other poets who place imagery and metaphor much more enjoyable then poem structure and rhyme. Whitman writes this poem with incredible detail and description. The man's voice in the poem was a sailor and he speaks about a successful voyage, but the death of the captain.
One of the best aspects of this poem is the hidden message. Being successful in what your doing will usually take precedent, but in reality means little if you lose yourself along the way. Whitman puts this message forth as the speaker talks about the crowd. The line that really brings this forth is "For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding." This line to me conveys the success of the mission then in a later verse he says "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 captain can't enjoy the victory since he didn't live through the trip.
Another part of the poem that really brings the power of Whitman's description out is the imagery of death. Such sayings as "It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead." and "My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will". He brings the death of the captain to the forefront of the readers mind. He displays the difference between the mood on the shore wonderfully.
Overall this poem is very enjoyable and has made me reconsider my thoughts of poets who place importance on poem structure. The words used are incredibly powerful and really allow the reader to walk in the place of the speaker.
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