O Captain My Captain
Billy Graham died yesterday.
I find it sad that he should die in the midst of another media frenzy
over gun control built upon the tragic sorrows of a community in Florida. The community has lost many of their most vulnerable
to someone who himself appears to be a single case of tragedy. The world will treat the passing of Reverend
Graham as the sailing of a ship which has long since lost its relevance and
look to children who in their grief will be made to adjust the sails of culture
into the new era. I wonder where we are
headed when one of our greatest captains has been lost and grieving children
are handed our helm?
O Captain! My Captain!
Written about the death of Abraham Lincoln, another great
captain.
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,
The 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment