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
Showing posts with label walt whitman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walt whitman. Show all posts
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.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Oh Captain my Captain-Walt Whitman's Patriotic Poem
Written in 1865 the poem was a patriotic encouragement by
Walt Whitman to ask for people to fight for what was right so that the young
country didn’t split in half. The poem was written as an honor for President
Lincoln. His heart broke because he wanted slavery to end but also hated seeing
Americans fighting against each other.
The beginning poem discusses the life and glory of the
captain (President Lincoln) and he moves to the end in agony over the assignation
of the president only because the hearts of the people still hurt. He compares
the nation to a ship that was at sea but is not safe and anchored into the bay.
Walt desires to see people celebrate the success in history.
Walt Whitman was a romantic character and saw President
Lincoln as that leader which came from the log hut and rural countryside to put
the nation on the right track. To Walt it was the simply man that had the most
honesty in politics. President Lincoln not only had to convince others of the
rightness of his action he also had to work through them himself. That was not
an easy task at that time in history.
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is
done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the
prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the
people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the
vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the
bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung for you
the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for
you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their
eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are
pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no
pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its
voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in
with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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