O Captain!<span> my Captain!</span><span> rise up and hear the bells;</span>
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,
<span>For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;</span>
Because they wanted to return to there home land
Answer:
When you think of Marcie, you think of intricate constellations and ablaze stars. She was beyond the mere standard of being beautiful, she was ethereal- she was out of this world. Her sleek, black hair was like a well-woven net of silk ribbons; it captured the attention of everyone around her and captivated them for all the right reasons. Her beady, slanted eyes were worth a million buck, for they held so much passion and devotion that ignited her existence with glee. When her hands stroked the gleaming strings of her harp, she momentarily took off to her own world- somewhere more celestial, more familiar to her. Her graceful aura was endearing; everyone who knew her, respected her and looked up to her. Marcie was the epitome of elegance and eloquence, but she was also a conflicted enigma.
