Oh captain my captain our fearful trip is done the ship has weathered every rack the prize we sought his 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 all heart art art o 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 wreaths or you the shores a-crowding or 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 [Music] 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 one exult o shores and ring o bells but I with mournful tread walk the deck my captain lies fallen cold and dead.
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IF
By Rudyard Kiplin If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you but make allowance for their doubting too if you can wait and not be tired by waiting or being lied about don't deal in lies or being hated don't give way to hating and yet don't look too good nor talk too wise if you can dream and not make dreams your master if you can think and not make thoughts your aim if you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same if you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools or watch the things you gave your life to broken and stoop and build them up with worn out tools if you could make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss and lose and start again at your beginnings and never breathe a word about your loss if you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them hold on if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue or walk with kings nor lose the common touch if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you if all men count with you but none too much if you can fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run yours is the earth and everything that's in it and which is more you'll be a man my son you
By Sabiu Tobiabout a year ago in Poets
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