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 oh heart! heart! heart!
Oh the bleeding drops of red,
where on the deck my Captain lies,
fallen cold and dead.
Oh 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 call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
here Captain! Dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
it is some dream that on the deck,
you’ve 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 anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
from fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
exult,oh shores, and ring, oh bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
walk the deck my Captain lies,
fallen cold and dead.
2 comentarios:
:))) aquí está la niña del Club de los poetas Muertos... son bellos esos versos del gran Whitman, aunque yo sorry los tengo que leer en español, ahora me arrepiento de no hablar ni mu de ingles :(
Un beso Elessar, cuidate.
Te quieres creer que tengo esa película hace años y aún no la he visto en su totalidad. Ahora después de leer tu post me han entrado ganas de verla y saber de ella.
Besos tiernos y dulces para ti.
** MARÍA **
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