"O Captain, My Captain," by Walt "No Neck" Whitman

O CAPTAIN! my Captain!

our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weather'd every crack,

thy pennant prizes won;

The end is near, the bells I hear,

the bleacher crowd exulting,

Pettitte's gone, Mo's saves are down,

Posada's bat is melting:

But O heart! heart! heart!

O, these aching pains of war!

Where on the deck my Captain waits

Going oh for four.

O Captain! my Captain!

for you, there is no blame;

We rise and scream in rapture

when Bob Shepard calls your name;

For you, bouquets and August days;

our fondest, greatest player;

For you, we form a swaying mass,

recalling Jeffrey Maier;

Dear CAP-I-TAN! O, CAP-I-TAN!

John Sterling's voice doth roar!

But it's no dream you stand on deck,

Going oh for four.

My Captain does not answer; 

his strike zone head to belly;

No vision seems to stir thy pulse, 

aside from Minka Kelly;

Thy plaque is there in Cooperstown,

"Our Greatest Yank," it says;

And yet, we yearn to see

Girardi play Edward Nunez.

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with hope no more,

Watch on deck, my Captain sigh,

Going oh for four.