My Captain

O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weathered 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 ribboned 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 anchored 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.

This poem by Walt Whitman is not for Abe Lincoln tonight. Tonight it is for my dad, for he has fought hard leading our youth group and family into dock, but he won't be able to share in this victory. He will not see what he has made for everyone he has touched, but he will be with us forever and always. In our hearts. So to all who knew him, he says goodbye. Now I say don't break apart what he has tried so hard to put together. Just keep hope for he is in a better place. He has made it to the day that everyone hopes for, where he will be told "well done good and faithful servant, you are much loved." He loves you all. If you ever need to remember that look up The Words I Would say by Sidewalk Prophets on youtube, because those are the words he would say.