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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.
The Nighthawk and Poetry has returned.  Come read your own work, a favorite, or just listen while supping on the neighborhood’s best cocktails.  Talk to Jerry to sign up.
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