| 9.4°C Dublin

from o captain, my captain

O Captain! My captain! Our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weathered 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.

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 anchored 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.