I HEAR America
singing, the varied carols I hear;
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Those
of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
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The
carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
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The
mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
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The
boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the
steamboat deck;
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The
shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;
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The
wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon
intermission, or at sundown;
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The
delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl
sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
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The
day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, robust,
friendly,
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Singing,
with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.
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Monday, April 30, 2012
I Hear America Singing by Walt Whitman
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