The blog discusses current affairs and development of national economic and social health through unique idea generation. Consider the blog a type of thought experiment where ideas are generated to be pondered but should never be considered definitive as a final conclusion. It is just a pathway to understanding and one may equally reject as accept ideas as theoretical dribble. New perspectives, new opportunities, for a new generation. “The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.”—Thomas Jefferson
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Poem Review: Walt Whitman's Poem "I Hear America Singing"
Walt Whitman’s poem I Hear America Singing provides an example of how a nation is built from the very contribution of its members. Singing being a metaphor for the productivity that is derived from the many different types of workers within the nation. Each nation is built off of the various members that complete their functions with spirit that adds up to economic competitiveness.
Think of how the manufacturers assemble products, engineers design products, scientists further industry knowledge, entrepreneurs invent products, the marketers promote products, and the accountants ensure accurate reckoning of balance sheets to determine profit. Even though each person may sing in a solo they collectively mesh together into a chorus and story.
Each person has a unique contribution to the overall development of a nation. The unemployed are left out from that song and cannot use their skills to contribute fully. Ensuring that people are trained, educated, and encouraged to be productive helps in developing full economic growth. A worker sings loudest if he/she is engaged with their full abilities that represent their best natural skills.
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.
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