Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman takes her place in the Morgan Library



in this place an American lyric there's a poem in this place in the footfalls and the halls and the quiet beats of the seats it is here at the curtain of day that America writes the lyric you must a whisper to say does a poem in this place and that heavy grace the line face of this noble building collections boomed and reborn twice there's a poem in Boston's Copley Square where poetess chants tear through the air like sheets of lame well love of the many swallows hatred of the few does a poem in Charlottesville what tiki torch a string a ring of flame typed around the wrists of knights will man so bright they glean blue seem like statues will men heat that long wax burning ever high over heaven higher blooms forever in a meadow of resistance there's a poem in that great sleeping giant of Lake Michigan defiantly raising its big blue head to Milwaukee and Chicago a poem beguiling that long ago blazed into frozen soil strutting upward in the glow does a poem and Florida and Puerto Rico and East Texas were streets well into a nexus of livers cows afloat like model boys and the brown will courage is now so common that 23 year old hayseeds conscious lest you senior citizens from flood waters there's a poem in los angeles young and wide as a Pacific tide was a single metal swell toes in the windowless classroom teaching black and brown students and Watts to spell the thoughts of a daughter might bite this poem for you there's a poem in California with thousands of students modular blocks and documented and well my friend Rosa finds the palette to blossom in better lock her spirits the better lock of her community she knows hope is like a stubborn ship gripping the dock or truth that you can't stop a dream alone knock down a dream how could this not to be a city soon they see on our country our America our American limit to write to a poem by the people the poor the Protestant the Muslim the Jew the native the immigrants the black the brown the blinds the brave the undocumented and undeterred the woman the man the non-binary the trans the allied to all of the above in Hoorn tyrants fear the coloreds now that we know it we can't blow it do we owe it to show it's not slow at all though it hurts to sew it when the world's cuts below it hope we must bestow it like a wick in the poet so it can grow lits bringing with it new stories to rewrite the story of a puerto rico depleted but not defeated a history ridden that need not be repeated a nation composed but not yet completed there's a poem in this place a poem in America apart and every American who we writes this nation he tells a story whether they have been told on this minnow of an earth to be the hope into a power test of time a poet and every American he sees in a poem penned doesn't me or poems end there's a place with his poem dwells it is here it is now in the yellow song of Don's bow that America writes and lyric we are just beginning to tell

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