1
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.
Expresses the poet’s grief for Lincoln, which was both personal and political. Whitman was a great admirer of Lincoln as a man and leader, a fervent supporter of the Union cause, and a passionate champion of the United States, which he called  “essentially the greatest poem.”
O Captain My Captain