O CAPTAIN ! MY CAPTAIN !
O CAPTAIN ! MY CAPTAIN !
by : Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
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,
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.
Rectificatif : "if" est un poème de Rudyard Kipling...