Past and Present
 
Thomas Hood
 
 
I REMEMBER, I remember    
The house where I was born,    
The little window where the sun    
Came peeping in at morn;    
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;    
But now, I often wish the night    
Had borne my breath away.    
 
I remember, I remember    
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups—    
Those flowers made of light!    
The lilacs where the robin built,    
And where my brother set    
The laburnum on his birthday,—    
The tree is living yet!    
 
I remember, I remember    
Where I was used to swing,    
And thought the air must rush as fresh    
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then    
That is so heavy now,    
And summer pools could hardly cool    
The fever on my brow.    
 
I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;    
I used to think their slender tops    
Were close against the sky:    
It was a childish ignorance,    
But now ’tis little joy
To know I’m farther off from Heaven    
Than when I was a boy.

O Captain! My Captain!

Walt Whitman
 
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.