I Hear America Singing (by poet, Walt Whitman)
Hello Grafted In Reader,
Today is Wednesday, June 3, 2026 in my corner of blog land. Weather mild, temperature in the mid twenties Celsius, (low eighties F), and contemplating this being the 250th birthday year for America. I recently purchased some coinage to honor this occasion and have it tucked away.
I am doing summer reading, and two books on my agenda include:
Return To Me, Lynn Austin, author
Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, May/June '26.
I have a story that is more a reflective essay, called Lucid and Present. It was originally a contest entry, but will be published in the print edition of
New Authors Journal, Sumnmer 2026 issue, very soon. You can purchase this on Amazon, the journal that is. Price is reasonable.
Please accept my invite to you to come join me at My Substack! So far, thirteen subscribers, and I post two-three notes per week on average.
https://davidcrussell.substack.com
In closing, I share with you the online version of a poem by Walt Whitman for which this post is titled.
Happy Season, and may the Lord bless and keep us!
I Hear America Singing
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
Shalom,
Mellow Rock
David C. Russell, Author
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