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.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Moderated my firt panel and it didn't suck. So I think I'm off to a good start. Now safely ensconced at the bar. I'm in the cubicle to the far right if you want to say hi.