There are so many great poems, great poets, undiscovered talent and surprises in the world of poetry, verse, and art. You just need to have access to it all. Today, we're very lucky. With the accessibility of the internet, laptops, wireless everywhere and now cell phones - you CAN stay on top of everything.Today's poem is one of Walt Whitman's all time great poems - forgotten by me since I began this blog 5 years ago. But reading an article today in the London Times (online, of course) about poetry, this great poem was remembered as one of the 10 greatest poems ever (interesting opinion of an American poem in British culture). So -- here it is for you to enjoy!
Oh yeah, don't forget the picture I choose of Whitman, which is the "middle-aged guy", they way he looked for most of his life, since I find the "bearded one" quite formidable. Enjoy!
I Hear America Singing
by Walt Whitman
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.
by Walt Whitman
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.
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