THE AGED POET AND THE YOUNG PRESIDENT

I was looking over my homepage of Facebook this morning, and I came across a post which a new social media friend, well, posted. There was a beautiful photo of a valley and sunrise, and captioned with a lovely poem which reminded me of yet another poem by one of the Poet Laureates of our time. And I could not help but make the comparison, and as a result, I recounted a rather ancient memory of mine.


The building has been razed now, and another one now sets in its footprint, but I remember sitting in my sixth grade classroom, in the school annex, over sixty years ago. And as I write these lines, I suddenly recall the exact seat in which I sat that day. Third row, third seat. 


It was January of 1961, and Mr. Ball stepped up to the black & white television set; which at that time featured all of three channels. Having adjusted the ‘rabbit ears,’ he clicked the ‘on’ knob, and adjusted the focus.

This day was all about pomp and ceremony, and the inauguration of a new president; the 35^th President of the United States of America. Prior to his swearing in, and subsequent speech by John F. Kennedy, an aged poet stepped to the podium. Millions knew his face, and multiplied millions more had read his poems. 


Today, the beloved poet has chosen a relevant poem to read to the assembled audience, and to the hundreds and hundreds of thousands more watching in their homes, and schools and businesses.


87 year old Robert Frost began reading his, “The Gift Outright;” a poem which celebrated the birth and worth and potential of the United States.


Pt. 2


“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 “


The sun was exceptionally bright that day, and the ancient poet was having a great deal of trouble making out the words of his poem. The pace of his reading slowed now, and he set aside his notes, and quoted the remainder of the poem from memory.


“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.”


Even at the innocent age of 11, I think I realized the import of what I was seeing, and I could not help but admire the tenacity of the old man, and I found myself swept up by the tenor of the words which he read, and subsequently quoted from memory. And I recall thinking, “It’s a good thing he memorized his own poem!” (and) “He certainly would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t!”


And while I was already acquainted, and enamored with the President Elect, (at least from a distance), and though I admired his inaugural address, especially the words, “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country,” somehow my soul was still in the process of being stirred by the words of that aged poet.


“To the land vaguely realizing westward, 
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced, 
Such as she was, such as she will become.”

Poem by Robert Frost

By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

If you would like to copy, share or save, please include the credit line, above