I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear; | |
Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
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The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
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The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
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The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
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The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;
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The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
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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 her, and to none else;
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The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
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Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.
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"I don't want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don't tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth." -Blanche DuBois -
Monday, July 4, 2011
Happy 4th July!
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