Walt Whitman was born on Long Island, N. Y., in 1819. His father was a carpenter. After the family removed to Brooklyn Walt became apprenticed to a newspaper, and at 12 began to write bits of verse, some of which were published in the New York Mirror. He made a series of long tramping tours through the country, returning finally to newspaper work in Brooklyn. He became known to the public as a poet through his “Leaves of Grass,” published in 1885. The volume was declared immoral by some, and the author severely criticised. “Leaves of Grass” has been republished a number of times in the United States, England, and Scotland, and among Whitman’s other works are “Drum Taps,” “As Strong as a Bird on Pinions Free,” “Two Rivulets,” “Specimen Days and Collect,” “November Boughs,” and “Sands at Seventy.” He died in 1892.

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,
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,
His ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.