I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanicsรขโฌโeach 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 boatรขโฌโthe deckhand singing on the steamboat deck; The shoemaker singing as he sits on his benchรขโฌโthe hatter singing as he stands; The wood-cutter's songรขโฌโthe ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown; The delicious singing of the motherรขโฌโor of the young wife at workรขโฌโor of the girl sewing or washingรขโฌโEach singing what belongs to her, and to none else; The day what belongs to the dayรขโฌโat night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs. Come! some of you! still be flooding The States with hundreds and thousands of mouth-songs fit for The States only. Walt Whitman, Leaves of Gr