WEBVTT

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It seems appropriate to
end today's celebration

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with one last poem, a
short one, "Ars Poetica".

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This is a poem about poetry.

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This is not by Robert
Frost, I'm sorry.

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But it is by another man
who stood on this stage

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in the 1960s.

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Archibald MacLeish read
where I'm standing today

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November 2nd, 1965.

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And this is his
poem, "Ars Poetica".

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"A poem should be palpable
and mute as a globed fruit,

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dumb as old medallions
to the thumb,

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silent as the sleeve-worn
stone of casement ledges

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where the moss has grown.

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A poem should be wordless
as a flight of birds.

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A poem should be
motionless in time

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as the moon climbs, leaving,
as the moon releases

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twig by twig the night-entangled
trees, leaving, as the moon

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behind winter leaves,
memory my memory the mind.

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A poem should be motionless
in time as the moon climbs.

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A poem should be
equal to, not true.

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For all the history of grief an
empty doorway and a maple leaf.

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For love the leaning grasses
and two lights above the sea.

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A poem should not mean but be."

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Thank you all for
being here tonight.

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[APPLAUSE]

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Please visit us at
the Poetry Center.

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And I'm sure we'll see
each other in other arts

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and cultural activities in
the weeks and months to come.

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[APPLAUSE]

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