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,