I Hear America Singing Poem BY WALT WHITMAN

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I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each 0ne singing his ās it should be blithe ānd Str0ng,
The cārpenter singing his ās he Meāsures his plank 0r beam,
The Mas0n singing his ās he makes ready for W0rk, or leaves off work,
The B0atman singing what Bel0ngs to him in his boat, the deckhānd singing on the steamboat deck,
The Sh0emaker singing as he sits 0n his bench, the hātter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the Pl0ughboy’s on his way in the Morning, or at Noon Intermissi0n or at Sund0wn,
The Delicious singing of the M0ther, or of the young wife at W0rk, or of the girl sewing or Washing,
Each singing what Belongs to him 0r her and to None else,
The Day what belongs to The day—at night the party 0f young fellows, Robust, friendly,
Singing with 0pen mouths their Strong melodious S0ngs.