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O Captain! My Captain! - Poems by A.E. Housman and Walt Whitman, Study notes of Poetry

The Institute for Health EducationPoetry

This json object contains information about two inspiring poems, 'to an athlete dying young' by a.e. Housman and 'o captain! my captain!' by walt whitman. These poems explore themes of life, death, and the human spirit. Housman's poem reflects on the fleeting nature of glory and the importance of seizing opportunities, while whitman's poem mourns the loss of a beloved leader. Both poems offer profound insights into the human condition and are valuable resources for students of literature, poetry, and philosophy.

Typology: Study notes

2021/2022

Uploaded on 09/12/2022

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!
To#An#Athlete#Dying#Young#
!
!
A.!E.!Housman,!1859!1!1936!
!
The!time!you!won!your!town!the!race!!!!
We!chaired!you!through!the!market1place;!!!!
Man!and!boy!stood!cheering!by,!!!!
And!home!we!brought!you!shoulder1high.!!!!
!!!!
To1day,!the!road!all!runners!come,!!!!!!
Shoulder1high!we!bring!you!home,!!!!
And!set!you!at!your!threshold!down,!!!!
Townsman!of!a!stiller!town.!!!!
!!!!
Smart!lad,!to!slip!betimes!away!!!!
From!fields!where!glory!does!not!stay,!!!
And!early!though!the!laurel!grows!!!!
It!withers!quicker!than!the!rose.!!!!
!!!!
Eyes!the!shady!night!has!shut!!!!
Cannot!see!the!record!cut,!!!!
And!silence!sounds!no!worse!than!cheers!!!
After!earth!has!stopped!the!ears:!!!!
!!!!
Now!you!will!not!swell!the!rout!!!!
Of!lads!that!wore!their!honours!out,!!!!
Runners!whom!renown!outran!!!!
And!the!name!died!before!the!man.!!!
!!!!
So!set,!before!its!echoes!fade,!!!!
The!fleet!foot!on!the!sill!of!shade,!!!!
And!hold!to!the!low!lintel!up!!!!
The!still1defended!challenge1cup.!!!!
!!!!
And!round!that!early1laurelled!head!!
Will!flock!to!gaze!the!strengthless!dead,!!!!
And!find!unwithered!on!its!curls!!!!
The!garland!briefer!than!a!girl’s.!
!
This!poem!is!in!the!public!domain.!
!
! !
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Download O Captain! My Captain! - Poems by A.E. Housman and Walt Whitman and more Study notes Poetry in PDF only on Docsity!

To An Athlete Dying Young

A. E. Housman, 1859 -­‐ 1936 The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-­‐place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-­‐high. To-­‐day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-­‐high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay, And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears: Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man. So set, before its echoes fade, The fleet foot on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel up The still-­‐defended challenge-­‐cup. And round that early-­‐laurelled head Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl’s. This poem is in the public domain.

O Captain! My Captain!

By 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.