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,
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; 10
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.
Poem as metaphor and elegy.
Abraham Lincoln is the captain. The Civil War is the fearful trip. The ship is the United States and the prize is the preservation of the union.
Like all great art, it's able to describe more than one specific piece of history.
In the words of Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong, performed by Edwin Starr:
War! huh-yeah
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Uh-huh
