This  poem is one of my favourites. I want to dedicate this to my teacher who has stood by my side as a guide,mentor,confidante and father. You can imagine him as the English teacher,Robin Williams of The Dead Poets Society. He has moulded me into a better and stronger person and I’m so grateful to him for that. In the last 15 mins of your birthday I wish you a life with no regrets. A very happy birthday sir! Here’s this poem for you!

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 belts;

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, it’s 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.

                                -Walt Whitman


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