So they all kissed the painted lips good-night and, wishing her a happy to-morrow, went away.
The doctor moved to take the heavy gifts off the bed. She stopped him with a tired smile and a shake of the head. It was all she could do just then. Life was very low.
“No,” she shook, “I want them all just as they are. Mamma said to-morrow—” she halted.
“Yes.”
“Poor mamma!”
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
By Walt Whitman
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,