Awesome Walt Whitman poem in honor of Abraham Lincoln just after his death (dedicated to Santi, to see that I too am worship times, that's not all going to be superheroes life).
Return of the Hero
Oh, captain, my captain!, Our fearful trip is over.
The ship has saved every rack,
have won the coveted prize.
East this port, I hear the bells and the whole town going wild,
Continuing with your eyes the mighty ship, the vessel grim and daring.
But, alas! O heart!, My heart, my heart!
not see the red drops fall slowly,
there on the bridge, where my Captain lies spread, frozen and dead?
Oh, captain, my captain!, Wake up to hear the bells,
up! It is for you to hoist the flag, is for you to sound the trumpets.
these vases are for you and those crowns adorned;
is for you in crowds swarm the beaches;
is to you to raise their cries, which become their souls, their faces glowing.
Come Captain! Dear father! Let go my arm under your head.
must surely be a dream of its lying on the deck,
extended, cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and motionless.
My father does not feel the warmth of my arm, has no pulse nor will.
The ship, safe and sound, has cast anchor, his journey is over;
The winning ship enters the port, back from his awful journey. Oh
beaches, rejoice; Sonad bells with sore
As I travel the bridge
steps where my Captain lies,
extended cold and dead.
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