To Him That Was Crucified
　　My spirit to yours dear brother,
　　Do not mind because many sounding your name do not understand you,
　　I do not sound your name, but I understand you,
　　I specify you with joy O my comrade to salute you, and to salute
　　those who are with you, before and since, and those to come also,
　　That we all labor together transmitting the same charge and succession,
　　We few equals indifferent of lands, indifferent of times,
　　We, enclosers of all continents, all castes, allowers of all theologies,
　　Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,
　　We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the
　　disputers nor any thing that is asserted,
　　We hear the bawling and din, we are reach'd at by divisions,
　　jealousies, recriminations on every side,
　　They close peremptorily upon us to surround us, my comrade,
　　Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and
　　down till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the diverse eras,
　　Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races,
　　ages to come, may prove brethren and lovers as we are.

O Captain! My Captain!
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.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 ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
O captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've 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 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 deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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啧啧这错落有致的感觉

然后先留着
我真心懒得把草叶集贴上来TAT