50+ Lifestyles

Max’s Musings

By Max Molleston

Somehow I got to thinking about President Kennedy a while back. I was just out of the Army when he was inaugurated and recalled that Robert Frost, the venerable New England poet, delivered the poem that day. I say all of that because it was the first time I recognized the man and his poem, the beginning of my romance with verse. I do spend space on this column (essay) on Frost from time to time. My favorite is Death of the Hired Man. Frost’s poem at the inauguration is The Gift Outright. Delicious phrasing of symbols take us back in our history.

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 were still 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)

I am so influenced by his choice of words and the manner in which he lays them down that, rightly so, it is one of the most emotional and moving poems in the English language. The back story is that Frost was preparing a new poem, but it was not finished. At least, that is how I heard it. As many of you readers recall, Frost was not that serious, but rather playful in others he penned.

For instance,

Neither Out Far Nor In Deep.

The people along the sand

All turn and look one way.

They turn their back on the land.

They look at the sea all day.

As long as it takes to pass

A ship keeps raising its hull

The wetter ground like glass

Reflects a standing gull.

The land may vary more ;

But whatever the truth may be —

The water comes ashore,

And the people look at the sea.

They cannot look out far.

They cannot look in deep.

But when was that ever a bar

To any watch they keep?

This poem seems to use a good bath of humor, spelling out in an appealing way what it is these watchers do. Of course, the fascination of a large body of water causes some of us to “look at the sea all day”. Those of us who can, watch. We observe and come to know. I hope you have enjoyed this writing as much as I have, placing it within my computer and shipping it to you. This year thinks it is winding down. Still some time! Join me next month.