National Poetry Month

You may write me down in history
 

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
 

Whose woods these are I think I know.
 

Out of the night that covers me,
 

I think that I shall never see
 

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
 

Booth led boldly with his big bass drum—
 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
 

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
 

Look out how you use proud words.
 

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
 

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
 

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,