America singing
each singing what belongs to
him or her, none else
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
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 him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
I Hear America Singing by Walt Whitman as published in Leaves of Grass (Garden City, N. Y. : Doubleday, 1919 Edition).
According to Wikipedia, “The book received its strongest praise from Ralph Waldo Emerson, who wrote a flattering five-page letter to Whitman and spoke highly of the book to friends. Emerson called it “the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom that America has yet contributed.” Emerson had called for the first truly American poet, saying that aspects of America “are yet unsung. Yet America is a poem in our eyes.”
I like that last part a lot.
Aspects of America “are yet unsung. Yet America is a poem in our eyes.”
And I want to believe that holds through to today.
There are poems yet to be written.
Songs yet to be sung.
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else.
I look forward to hearing America singing, the varied carols to hear.
PS: According to Wikipedia this engraving of Mr. Whitman from 1856 was printed in the front piece of the Leave of Grass. Not yet the white haired, bearded old guy that first comes to mind now was he?
No Haiku For You 