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KING PELLINORE’S LITERARY MAGAZINE

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.

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