I hear America singing, the melodious accents I hear,
The immigrants, each one singing his anthem with different tongue,
The scholar singing his as he stride for the Dream,
The employee singing his as his director’s eyes wrung,
The manager singing his as he congregates his team,
The Asian’s song, choking between lines, as his luminous bird flies away

chirping away the prosperous days,
The Mexican’s song, morphing over mornings, noons, and nights,
The African-American singing his as he lift his head up showered by lights,
Each singing what the tales have told,
Singing with open mouth the melodious tones that still hold.