Written at a time of National mourning, leadership, and sacrifice. Penned when Abraham Lincoln was assassinated…..

O Captain! My Captain
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: But O heart! heart! heart the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my lies, Captain 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 eall, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread. Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead

Walt Whitman