America / Claude McKay

America

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate,
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.

~~
Claude McKay (1889-1948)
from Harlem Shadows, 1922

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Claude McKay biography

"America" read by Tubyez Cropper. Courtesy Beinecke Library at Yale.

America / Walt Whitman

from Sands at Seventy

America

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear’d, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love, 

A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother, 

Chair’d in the adamant of Time.

~~
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
from November Boughs, 1888

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Walt Whitman biography

Walt Whitman reads from "America". Courtesy awetblackbough.

I Like Americans / Ernest Hemingway

I Like Americans

By A Foreigner

I like Americans.
They are so unlike Canadians.
They do not take their policemen seriously.
They come to Montreal to drink.
Not to criticize.
They claim they won the war.
But they know at heart that they didn't.
They have such respect for Englishmen.
They like to live abroad.
They do not brag about how they take baths.
But they take them.
Their teeth are so good.
And they wear B.V.D.'s all the year round.
I wish they didn't brag about it.
They have the second best navy in the world.
But they never mention it.
They would like to have Henry Ford for president.
But they will not elect him.
They saw through Bill Bryan.
They have gotten tired of Billy Sunday.
Their men have such funny hair cuts.
They are hard to suck in on Europe.
They have been there once.
They produced Barney Google, Mutt and Jeff.
And Jiggs.
They do not hang lady murderers.
They put them in vaudeville.
They read the Saturday Evening Post
And believe in Santa Claus.
When they make money
They make a lot of money.
They are fine people.

~~
Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)

from Toronto Star Weekly, 1923

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Also read: "I Like Canadians"

Ernest Hemingway biography

"I Like Americans" read by Brian Knox McGugan.

The New Colossus / Emma Lazarus

Dietmar Rabisch, Statue of Liberty, New York City, 2012. CC BY-SA, Wikimedia Commons.

The New Colossus

(Written in aid of the Bartholdi Pedestal Fund, 1883.)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to be free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

~~
Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)
from Poems, 1888

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Emma Lazarus biography

"The New Colossus" courtesy 1983horizons1.

I Hear America Singing / Walt Whitman

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 deck-hand 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 the 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 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.

~~
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
from Leaves of Grass, 1867

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Walt Whitman biography

"I Hear America Singing" read by Dustin Rowland.