#669168
(bkz: call me o captain my captain)
o captain my captain
(bkz: dead poets society)
(bkz: peter weir)
o captain! my captain!
walt whitman
o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done;
the ship has weatherd 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 ribbond 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,
youve 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 anchord 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.
(bkz: peter weir)
o captain! my captain!
walt whitman
o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done;
the ship has weatherd 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 ribbond 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,
youve 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 anchord 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.
robot süpürge
bebek maması
aptamil bebek maması
en ucuz klima fiyatları
klima fiyatları
dubai vize
sözlük scripti sütyenli atlet
şişli escort bursa escort bursa escort görükle escort türkçe seks hikayeleri izmir escort hatay escort izmir escort ankara escort
çankaya escort maltepe escort buca escort denizli escort denizli escort çiğli escort şirinevler escort çekmeköy escort
Anadolu Yakası Escort istanbul escort
şişli escort
esenyurt escort
beylikdüzü escort
neden bekliyorsun?
bu sözlük, duygu ve düşüncelerini özgürce paylaştığın bir platform, hislerini tercüme eden özgür bilgi kaynağıdır.
katkıda bulunmak istemez misin?