I was deeply engaged with the discussion of this sonnet and loved it then and now. I remember problems with the resolution. All resolved now. A simple and noble sonnet.
Love it!
Janet
The Swearing-in of Calvin Coolidge
Plymouth Notch, Vermont, 1923
Strange, the postman's loud, insistent knock
(The nearest phone, in town, two miles away)
Which roused them out of bed at nine o'clock,
Tired from bringing in the August hay.
And stranger still, two telegrams they read
By lantern light: official ones, and both
With urgent news from Washington, that said,
"The President is dead. Please take the oath."
But in Vermont--where even summer skies
Can whisper that it's time to stack the wood,
And every breath on northern air implies
You're running out of days to do some good--
No one would be surprised, or think it odd
To see a man look up and say "So help me God."
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