25 Jan 21 Inauguration Poetry

 Poetic Inaugurations

John F. Kennedy / Robert Frost

Bill Clinton / Miller Williams / Maya Angelou 

Barack Obama / Richard Blanco / Elizabeth Alexander

Joe Biden / Amanda Gorman

Last Thursday, Wannaska Writer (WW) published an article written by The Chairman wherein The Chairman wrote, and I quote, “Thank you for reading this article [‘Get Rich With Poetry’], and congratulations: You are a part of the .01% of the population that will read a story with the word ‘poetry’ in the title.” Later, he said, “It’s tough for a newcomer to break in. We unknown poets need a local forum.”

That all changed last Wednesday, the Inauguration Day of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris, where entertainment/homage for the new leaders, and for the country they now lead were offered by the likes of Lady Gaga and Garth Brooks. Hard acts to follow on any day. But followed they were. Late in the program, the 2021 U.S. Youth Poet Laureate, Amanda Gorman, a woman in her early twenties and Harvard-educated, was able to “break in,” to become internationally known for her recitation to millions in a global forum. 

Ms. Gorman is only the fourth person to recite her work at a U.S. inauguration of its highest public offices. Note the pairs at the top of this post where the politician-poet duos are listed. Considering Ms. Gorman’s appearance last Wednesday, it seems like a good time to remember the other three poets given the honor of reading at a presidential inauguration.

If you want to read from the source of what’s written below, see Emily Temple here. 

1961: John F. Kennedy/Robert Frost

The Gift Outright

The land was ours before we were the land’s 

She was our land more than a hundred years 

Before we were her people. She was ours 

In Massachusetts, in Virginia, 

But we were England’s, still colonials, 

Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, 

Possessed by what we now no more possessed. 

Something we were withholding made us weak 

Until we found out that it was ourselves 

We were withholding from our land of living, 

And forthwith found salvation in surrender. 

Such as we were we gave ourselves outright 

(The deed of gift was many deeds of war) 

To the land vaguely realizing westward, 

But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced, 

Such as she was, such as she will become.

Famously, this wasn’t the poem Frost had prepared for Kennedy’s inauguration. He had written a poem entitled “Dedication” for the occasion, but when he took the stage, he couldn’t read it; the glare on the snow was too strong. So instead, he recited “The Gift Outright,” which he knew by heart, instead. (See “Dedication” at the end of this post.)

1993: Bill Clinton/Maya Angelou

On the Pulse of Morning

Each of you, descendant of some passed

On traveler, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you,

Pawnee, Apache, Seneca, you

Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then

Forced on bloody feet,

Left me to the employment of

Other seekers—desperate for gain,

Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Arab, the Swede, the German, the Eskimo, the Scot,

You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought,

Sold, stolen, arriving on the nightmare

Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am that Tree planted by the River,

Which will not be moved.

1997: Bill Clinton/Miller Williams

Of History and Hope

We have memorized America,

how it was born and who we have been and where.

In ceremonies and silence we say the words,

telling the stories, singing the old songs.

We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.

The great and all the anonymous dead are there.

We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.

The rich taste of it is on our tongues.

But where are we going to be, and why, and who?

The disenfranchised dead want to know.

We mean to be the people we meant to be,

to keep on going where we meant to go.

2009: Barack Obama/Elizabeth Alexander

Praise Song for the Day

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.

Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,

who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built

brick by brick the glittering edifices

they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.

Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,

the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

2013: Barack Obama/Richard Blanco 

One Today

My face, your face, millions of faces in morning’s mirrors,

each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:

pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,

fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows

begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper—

bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,

on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives—

to teach geometry, or ring-up groceries as my mother did

for twenty years, so I could write this poem.

2021: Joe Biden/Amanda Gorman 

The Hill We Climb 

When day comes we ask ourselves,

where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry,

a sea we must wade

We've braved the belly of the beast

We've learned that quiet isn't always peace

And the norms and notions

of what just is

Isn’t always just-ice

And yet the dawn is ours

before we knew it

Somehow we do it

Somehow we've weathered and witnessed

a nation that isn’t broken

but simply unfinished

We the successors of a country and a time

Where a skinny Black girl

descended from slaves and raised by a single mother

can dream of becoming president

only to find herself reciting for one

And yes we are far from polished

far from pristine

but that doesn’t mean we are

striving to form a union that is perfect

We are striving to forge a union with purpose

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and

conditions of man

And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us

but what stands before us

We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,

we must first put our differences aside

We lay down our arms

so we can reach out our arms

to one another

We seek harm to none and harmony for all

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:

That even as we grieved, we grew

That even as we hurt, we hoped

That even as we tired, we tried

That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious

Not because we will never again know defeat

but because we will never again sow division

Scripture tells us to envision

that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree

And no one shall make them afraid

If we’re to live up to our own time

Then victory won’t lie in the blade

But in all the bridges we’ve made

That is the promise to glade

The hill we climb

If only we dare

It's because being American is more than a pride we inherit,

it’s the past we step into

and how we repair it

We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation

rather than share it

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy

And this effort very nearly succeeded

But while democracy can be periodically delayed

it can never be permanently defeated

In this truth

in this faith we trust

For while we have our eyes on the future

history has its eyes on us

This is the era of just redemption

We feared at its inception

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs

of such a terrifying hour

but within it we found the power

to author a new chapter

To offer hope and laughter to ourselves

So while once we asked,

how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?

Now we assert

How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was

but move to what shall be

A country that is bruised but whole,

benevolent but bold,

fierce and free

We will not be turned around

or interrupted by intimidation

because we know our inaction and inertia

will be the inheritance of the next generation

Our blunders become their burdens

But one thing is certain:

If we merge mercy with might,

and might with right,

then love becomes our legacy

and change our children’s birthright

So let us leave behind a country

better than the one we were left with

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,

we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one

We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,

we will rise from the windswept northeast

where our forefathers first realized revolution

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,

we will rise from the sunbaked south

We will rebuild, reconcile and recover

and every known nook of our nation and

every corner called our country,

our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,

battered and beautiful

When day comes we step out of the shade,

aflame and unafraid

The new dawn blooms as we free it

For there is always light,

if only we’re brave enough to see it

If only we’re brave enough to be it

Exploration 1: Do you think poetry reading has a place at Presidential Inaugurations? Why? Why not?

Exploration 2: Which poem do you think is best for an inauguration and for the times in which it was written?

Exploration 3: If you have a few more minutes, read Frost’s poem below and decide whether or not this poem is more appropriate than the one he ended up reciting. 

The Gift Outright

(With some preliminary history in rhyme)

by Robert Frost

Summoning artists to participate 

In the august occasions of the state 

Seems something artists ought to celebrate. 

Today is for my cause a day of days. 

And his be poetry's old-fashioned praise 

Who was the first to think of such a thing. 

This verse that in acknowledgment I bring 

Goes back to the beginning of the end 

Of what had been for centuries the trend; 

A turning point in modern history. 

Colonial had been the thing to be 

As long as the great issue was to see 

What country'd be the one to dominate 

By character, by tongue, by native trait, 

The new world Christopher Columbus found. 

The French, the Spanish, and the Dutch were downed 

And counted out. Heroic deeds were done. 

Elizabeth the First and England won. 

Now came on a new order of the ages 

That in the Latin of our founding sages 

(Is it not written on the dollar bill 

We carry in our purse and pocket still?) 

God nodded His approval of as good. 

So much those heroes knew and understood-- 

I mean the great four, Washington, 25 

John Adams, Jefferson, and Madison-- 

So much they knew as consecrated seers 

They must have seen ahead what now appears 

They would bring empires down about our ears 

And by the example of our Declaration 

Make everybody want to be a nation. 

And this is no aristocratic joke 

At the expense of negligible folk. 

We see how seriously the races swarm 

In their attempts at sovereignty and form. 

They are our wards we think to some extent 

For the time being and with their consent, 

To teach them how Democracy is meant. 

"New order of the ages" did we say? 

If it looks none too orderly today, 

'Tis a confusion it was ours to start 

So in it have to take courageous part. 

No one of honest feeling would approve 

A ruler who pretended not to love 

A turbulence he had the better of. 

Everyone knows the glory of the twain 

Who gave America the aeroplane 

To ride the whirlwind and the hurricane. 

Some poor fool has been saying in his heart 

Glory is out of date in life and art. 

Our venture in revolution and outlawry 

Has justified itself in freedom's story 

Right down to now in glory upon glory. 

Come fresh from an election like the last, 

The greatest vote a people ever cast, 

So close yet sure to be abided by, 

It is no miracle our mood is high. 

Courage is in the air in bracing whiffs 

Better than all the stalemate an's and ifs. 

There was the book of profile tales declaring 

For the emboldened politicians daring 

To break with followers when in the wrong, 

A healthy independence of the throng, 

A democratic form of right divine 

To rule first answerable to high design. 

There is a call to life a little sterner, 

And braver for the earner, learner, yearner. 

Less criticism of the field and court 

And more preoccupation with the sport. 

It makes the prophet in us all presage 

The glory of a next Augustan age 

Of a power leading from its strength and pride, 

Of young ambition eager to be tried, 

Firm in our free beliefs without dismay, 

In any game the nations want to play. 

A golden age of poetry and power 

Of which this noonday's the beginning hour.