O Captain! my Captain!

our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack,

the prize we sought is won.

A noiseless patient spider,

I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

Mark’d how to explore

the vacant vast surrounding.

Ever unreeling them,

ever tirelessly speeding them,

Ceaselessly musing,

venturing,

throwing,

seeking.

O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

fallen cold and dead.

Till the bridge you will need be form’d,

till the ductile anchor hold,

Till the gossamer thread you fling

catch somewhere,

O my soul.

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.

And you O my soul,

where you stand,

Surrounded,

detached,

in measureless oceans of space.

Here Captain!

dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

Ceaselessly musing,

venturing,

throwing,

seeking the spheres

to connect them.

O Captain! my Captain!

rise up and hear the bells!

Till the bridge you will need be form’d,

Till the gossamer thread you fling

catch somewhere,

O my soul.

O heart!

heart!

heart!

Ever unreeling them,

ever tirelessly speeding them.