For Balustrade Lanyard: O Lanyard! My Lanyard!

O Lanyard! My Lanyard! 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 balustrade my lanyard lies,

               Fallen cold and dead.

O Lanyard! My Lanyard! 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 lanyard! dear father!

          This arm beneath your head;

               It is some dream that on the balustrade,

                    You've fallen cold and dead.

 

My lanyard 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 anchor'd 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 balustrade my lanyard lies,

                   Fallen cold and dead.

 

 

#FreeBalustradeLanyard

With sincere apologies to Walt Whitman, and poetry in general