American poet and civil rights activist Maya Angelou wrote and performed "On the Pulse of Morning" for the presidential inauguration of Bill Clinton in January of 1993. The poem echoes key points in Clinton's inaugural speech, especially that of America's need to own up to its violent history of genocide, slavery, colonialism, and environmental destruction in order to secure a more peaceful and equitable future. The poem aims to inspire in its audience a sense of unity and responsibility towards other people and the planet.
A rock, a river, and a tree once provided a home to creatures that went extinct a long time ago. They left their mark on the mastodon and the dinosaur, whose fossils are the only evidence of their brief stay here on the earth's surface. If there was some kind of warning before those creatures quickly went extinct, it's been lost in darkness of the dirt that has since piled up and all the time that's gone by.
But now, the rock shouts out to us human beings in a clear and forceful voice, saying, "Come, you can stand on my back and look toward your faraway future, but do not look for shelter in my shadow.
I'm not going to let you hide anymore.
You were born with only a little less power than the angels, yet you have squatted for so long in that painful darkness. You have kept your head down for too long, refusing to acknowledge what's going on around you.
Your mouths are overflowing with words ready to kill."
The rock shouts now, "You can stand on me, but you have to face who you are."
On the other side of the wall that divides the world a river sings beautifully, "Come rest beside me.
Each one of you is a nation surrounded by fragile borders that make you strangely proud, yet you're always lashing out and constantly being attacked.
All your violent attempts to get richer have polluted me, left rings of garbage beside my waters and a steady flow of wreckage on my chest.
Despite this, I am calling you now to my riverside, if only you will stop devoting yourself to war. If you come to me dressed in peace, I will sing the songs God gave to me when I and the tree and the stone were not separate.
This was before your distrust of other people's motives became an open wound on your forehead, back when you still understood that you didn't understand anything at all."
The river keeps singing and singing.
There is an earnest desire to answer the singing river and the knowledgeable rock.
That's according to Asian, Hispanic, Jewish, African, and Native American people; people from the Sioux tribe; Catholic and Muslim people; French, Greek, and Irish people; leaders from all different religions; people of different sexual orientations; people who preach; rich people and people who don't have houses; people who teach. All these people, all of them, hear what the tree is saying.
Today, all the trees that have ever existed and that will ever exist are saying to humankind, "Come to me, here beside the river.
Put down roots beside me, here by the river.
Every one of you has an ancestor who travelled here and has given you the right to be here.
You, the Indigenous nations—Pawnee, Apache, Seneca, Cherokee—who first named me, who rested with me, who were later violently forced to leave me to the use of other people who were desperate to make money.
You, the person from Turkey, the person from Sweden, the person from Germany, the person from Scotland... You, a member of the Ashanti people, a member of the Yoruba people, a member of the Kru people, taken and sold into slavery, arriving in the worst possible circumstances and praying for freedom and equality.
Come here and put down roots beside me.
I am the tree rooted by the river, and no one will ever move me.
I—the rock, the river, and the tree—belong to you. Your journey here has been paid for."
Look up, because you have an intense need for this bright morning that is just beginning for you.
History, despite all its violence and agony, can't be undone. But if it's faced with courage, it doesn't have to repeat itself.
Look up, look at the new day that's beginning for you.
Remake the dream.
Women, children, men—all of you need to take the dream into your own hands.
Shape it into what you personally need the most. Shape it into what you as a people want to be. Let your heart be light. Each hour going forward contains a chance to start over.
Don't be committed to fear or forever attached to acting monstrously.
The horizon is approaching, giving you an opportunity to make different choices. Here, on the heartbeat of this beautiful day, you can have the courage to look at the rock, the river, the tree, your country.
This country that belongs to the rich and the poor alike.
This country that belongs as much to you as it did to the mastodon way back when.
Here on the heartbeat of this new day, have the dignity to look forward, to look into your sister's eyes, to look into your brother's face, to look at your country and say simply, so simply, with hope, "Good morning."
“On the Pulse of Morning” is, in essence, a manifesto. Written and performed for Bill Clinton’s presidential inauguration in January 1993, the poem reinforces the message of Clinton’s inaugural speech, which called for the reinvention of America in order to ensure its continued survival. To that end, the poem urges its audience to avoid repeating history by “fac[ing] it with courage.” Ultimately it argues that in order to move forward, America must reject ignorance of the horrors it has committed; rather than hiding from it or burying the past, the American people must confront their history of slavery, colonialism, and environmental destruction so that they can avoid repeating those mistakes in the future.
The poem begins by evoking the extinction of the mastodon and the dinosaurs, a fate America faces, the poem suggests, if it continues to hide “face down in ignorance.” The speaker of the poem then goes on to describe this ignorance, listing the ways humanity has harmed itself and the earth in its quest for power and dominion. For example, the speaker implicates America’s history of colonialism and slavery by referring to the Indigenous tribes who gave it its “first name” and who were later forced to leave their home “on bloody feet,” as well as the African peoples who were enslaved and brought over on ships to serve America’s “desperat[ion] for gain, [...] for gold.”
The speaker contrasts this “nightmare” of slavery and genocide to “the dream”—that is, the American Dream, which implies equal opportunity for all. This contrast emphasizes America’s past failures and what it must address moving forward. The speaker also addresses the “bordered” countries “perpetually under siege” in pursuit of “profit.” This drive for gain, this greed, not only drives the violence between countries but leaves “collars of waste” and “currents of debris” on the earth, descriptions which evoke the damage being done to the earth through humanity’s irresponsible handling of its resources.
The speaker goes on to assure the audience that though its history is filled with “wrenching pain,” this history need not be repeated. Instead, America should learn from its mistakes and “clad [itself] in peace.” Arguing that the American people must “seek no haven” in the earth’s shadow, the speaker implies that in order to secure a future, people must stop hiding “face down in ignorance.” In other words, America can’t run from its mistakes, nor is there anywhere left to hide. Only by addressing its history can America hope to catch sight of its “distant destiny”—that is, a future which hasn’t been imagined yet.
The poem moves back and forth between the voice of the speaker and the voices of the Rock, the River, and the Tree, which together represent a whole and unified planet. In doing so, the poem gives voice to what it argues is the “true yearning” of all people for a brighter future. The poem is meant to inspire in its audience an understanding of the need for change in U.S. environmental and economic policy, suggesting that a viable future depends on America’s ability to turn away from war, competition, and greed and towards unity—everyone working together for the well-being of all. Only through taking responsibility for the earth and its inhabitants, the poem argues, will humankind be able to build a harmonious, inclusive, and enduring future.
The speaker describes the River singing "a beautiful song" about a more peaceful world. According to the River, there was a time when cynicism wasn't "a bloody sear" across humanity's brow, a time when the River, the Tree, and the Rock were united and whole. The River's song implies that such unity is still possible, but in order to achieve it, humanity must take "new steps of change"—that is, commit to tangible policies that will put an end to warring with each other and wasting the earth's resources in pursuit of profit.
The speaker then lists off the various groups of people who "hear / the speaking of the Tree”—that is, the Tree’s instruction to put down roots beside the River. The groups span different races, ethnicities, religions, sexual orientations, occupations, and socioeconomic statuses, thereby implying that everyone is capable of hearing and responding to this call for change and growth, and that everyone must be included in this vision of America’s future—which is not only about ensuring the survival of the United States, but the survival of human beings and the earth more generally.
The listing of the various groups of people also draws attention to the economic disparities between groups of people; "the privileged" and "the homeless" both "hear / the speaking of the tree," but have vastly different experiences of the world. The speaker of the poem argues that through the enactment of responsible environmental and economic changes, however, these disparities can be addressed. By "molding it into the shape of [their] most private need [... their] most public self," Americans can turn their country into a more equitable and sustainable one, one that belongs as much to "the mendicant" as to "Midas." In other words, regardless of their economic station, every person has the right to feel safe and included, and furthermore, every person has the responsibility to help "give birth" to this "dream" of the future.
The poem ends on a hopeful note, suggesting that by committing to a more responsible way of life, the American people will have earned the right to look each other in the eye. There is a sense of relief that the speaker infers Americans can look forward to when this happens. In this imagined future, a weight has been lifted. The poem concludes with the phrase "Good Morning," which implies a fresh start and an optimistic view of the future. The poem wants the reader to feel empowered, to "have the courage" to build a more responsible and unified tomorrow.
A Rock, A ...
... long since departed,
"On the Pulse of Morning" begins by evoking the Earth's long history, describing elements of nature that were once "Hosts to species long since departed." The capitalization of "A Rock, A River, A Tree" draws attention to each of these objects and their relationship to each other. The asyndeton implies that there is no hierarchy here; these elements are equals, and together, they gesture to the earth as a whole. That they together comprise the first line seems to emphasize the fact that the earth was here long before the various species who would come to occupy it, and long after those species disappeared.
The capitalization in the first line along with the immediate sense of history being evoked also lends itself to a feeling of importance. It is immediately clear that this is a speaker who has something to say, that this poem isn't internal and personal but broad, with an eye for generalizations: the Rock isn't a singular rock but all the various kinds of stone which make up the earth's surface. The River isn't a specific river but the waters of earth more generally. The Tree isn't a particular kind of tree but rather the idea of a tree, with all its symbolic connotations: wisdom, age, growth, life, shelter, and so forth. Likewise, the word "species" refers to any number of different kinds of animals that once roamed the earth and have "since departed"—or gone extinct.
Marked the mastodon, ...
... dust and ages.
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Get LitCharts A+But today, the ...
... place down here.
You, created only ...
... down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling ...
... hide your face.
Across the wall ...
... by my side.
Each of you ...
... upon my breast.
Yet, today I ...
... stone were one.
Before cynicism was ...
... the wise Rock.
So say the ...
... homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They ...
... beside the River.
Each of you, ...
... been paid for.
You, who gave ...
... Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, ...
... for a dream.
Here, root yourselves ...
... have been paid.
Lift up your ...
... be lived again.
Lift up your ...
... of your hands.
Mold it into ...
... For new beginnings.
Do not be ...
... steps of change.
Here, on the ...
... the mastodon then.
Here on the ...
... face, your country
And say simply ...
... Good morning.
"On the Pulse of Morning" personifies elements of the earth, giving voice to the concerns and inherent wisdom of nature. The Rock, River, and Tree that appear throughout the poem, then, symbolize the earth itself and its various lessons. Each of these individual elements offers a particular lesson, but together they represent the whole of the planet, and more specifically, the United States—a country for which its inhabitants must learn to take responsibility, the poem argues.
In the beginning of the poem, the Rock, the River, and the Tree are mentioned together as if they are a single unit. Together, they are "hosts to species long since departed." As the poem progresses, however, each aspect of the earth has some particular wisdom to offer its inhabitants. The Rock, for example, "cries out [...] forcefully" that humankind must abandon its ignorance and "face [its] distant destiny." The Rock's message is about no longer hiding from the mistakes of the past (no longer hiding under a "rock," as it were). The sturdy Rock can be thought of as specifically representing strength and courage—specifically the strength and courage to learn from the past.
The River then "sings a beautiful song." The song is for humankind to come together and stop its warring, stop all the "armed struggles for profit." It speaks of the "waste" and "debris" cluttering its shores, reflecting the way greed has led to environmental destruction, and demands that people "study war no more." It promises that once people leave behind their cynicism and pride, they will finally be able to rest in a state of unity with other people as well as the environment. The flowing River, then, represents the inherent connection between all people. Only by recognizing this connection can humanity overcome selfishness and greed, and then move forward together.
Finally, the Tree instructs humanity to "plant" itself by the River. It assures people that each and every one of them has the right to "root" themselves next to it, to establish a solid sense of home. The Tree insists that neither it nor the River will "be moved"—there is a future in working together. The Tree demands that humankind take responsibility for that future by committing to growth and change, by turning their faces to the "bright morning dawning" for them. With its roots firmly planted in the ground, the Tree represents the responsibility people have for their country, for each other, and for the earth itself.
Finally, the Rock, the River, and the Tree instruct people to "look up and out upon me [...] your country." Here, the Rock, the River, and the Tree symbolize America itself, and more specifically, a unified America where Americans have listened to the wisdom of nature and embraced its lessons.
In this poem, shadow, darkness, and gloom all symbolize ignorance, something the poem cautions Americans they must address if they are going to build a better future.
In the first stanza, the speaker describes the remnants of dinosaurs and mastodons who once walked the earth. Despite their massive size and power, all that's left of them are "dry tokens"—fossils, for example—"on [the] planet floor." One might wonder how such incredible creatures went extinct, but the speaker says that "Any broad alarm of their hastening doom" has been "lost in the gloom of dust and ages." There is resignation in this statement; the speaker seems to be saying that any kind of certainty regarding the dinosaurs and the mastodon is irretrievable now. It was a long time ago. Nothing can save them now.
On the contrary, the Rock's message is one of urgency; "today," it cries out "clearly," "forcefully." Its message is that humanity may continue to live on this earth, but only if they "seek no haven it [its] shadow." In other words, there's nowhere left for humankind to hide. The Rock goes on to say that while humans were created with nearly the potential and power of divine beings, they have "crouched too long in / The bruising darkness." The speaker makes it explicitly clear that by crouching in the darkness they mean laying "face down in ignorance." Hiding from the truth won't save humanity; instead, they must turn and face what they've done.
The poem's title is a clear indication of what is important in this poem. Day and morning both symbolize a future brightened by truth and responsibility, a future where unity between peoples and harmony with the earth is possible. Morning often connotes new beginnings, and it does so in this poem quite explicitly. In short, the light of day symbolizes hope.
The speaker argues that humans have "a piercing need / For this bright morning dawning." Their very survival depends on their ability and willingness to turn a new page. By courageously facing their collective history, Americans may put the past to rest and lift their eyes "upon / The day breaking." "Daybreak" refers to morning's first light; after the darkness of night, that first visible light signals the start of a new day full of possibilities.
The speaker repeats variations of the title toward the end of the poem: "Here, on the pulse of this fine day," and "Here on the pulse of this new day." In other words, the heartbeat of the future depends on the courage of humans now, depends on how people treat the earth and each other now. The heartbeat of America—the survival of America—depends on Americans facing their past so that they do not have to relive it.
The poem ends with the phrase "Good morning," indicating the hope and optimism of a future defined by courage and responsibility, by looking "into your sister's eyes, into / Your brother's face, your country." By seeing and recognizing the humanity in each other, by treating each other with dignity and respect, by creating a more equitable and harmonious future, Americans will have turned the page. They will have a fresh day in which to greet each other. They will have hope.
Angelou utilizes the imagery of planting to symbolize the idea of sustainability and community, of people working together to create a viable future. The Tree instructs people to "plant" themselves beside the River, which represents unity. By "rooting" itself in unity, humankind has a chance at a more hopeful future, one which "will not be moved"—that is, it is steadfast, sturdy, built to last. The term "putting down roots," when used to describe a person, means to form connections to a place, to have human attachments. When used to describe a plant, it means to draw nutrients and water up through the soil into the plant, so they it may be nourished. In other words, roots represent connection and interdependence, and a strong foundation which allows whatever is rooted to thrive.
In general, Angelou uses enjambment as a means of pacing the poem. In the first stanza, it's clear that enjambment allows the speaker to dole out information in bits and pieces, each line broadening the reader's picture of what's going on. Enjambment lengthens thoughts and images (in that these literally take up more space on the page) and also creates momentum in the poem by pulling the reader forward.
While for the most part line breaks tend to coincide with where one might naturally expect to take a breath, the poem occasionally uses them more strategically. One such instance is lines 10-11:
"Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,"
A more natural line break would be something like: "Come, you may stand upon my back / And face your distant destiny." However, because the line is broken where it is, it encourages the reader not to pause for breath at the end of line 10. The pronoun "my" at the end of the line is inconclusive, pushing the reader to carry their breath over to the next line in order to complete the phrase or thought. By pushing the word "Back" to the beginning of line 11, the poem places a different kind of emphasis on it: it ends up occupying the left margin and being capitalized. Placing "Back" and "face" and "distant destiny" all on the same line allows the poem to actually enact the process being described: the reader must look back before moving forward.
The poem's use of enjambment also, of course, serves to contrast with the use of end-stopped lines. These lines tend to break up the flow of the poem, allowing the reader to land, pause, and take note of where they are.
This happens directly after the previous example. Both lines 12 and 13 ("But seek no [...] place down here.") are end-stopped, lending a sense of finality to the Rock's instruction to humanity to stop hiding. The fact that the line does not carry on forces the reader to pause and consider what they've just read, just as the Rock is asking humankind to pause and consider where it's been, what mistakes it has made, how it may avoid repeating them in the future.
The poem often omits punctuation where readers would naturally pause, creating lines that are only very subtly end-stopped—or that some readers may even argue are actually enjambed. Line 1, for example, contains no punctuation after "Tree," but it's clear from context that the following line begins a new modifying phrase. There is thus an implied pause after "Tree," yet the lack of punctuation also makes sure that this doesn't feel too forced. The reader is still pulled forward, sensing from that lack of punctuation that the thought is incomplete.
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An extinct mammal of the elephant family.
"On the Pulse of Morning" is a free verse poem, comprised of 34 stanzas of varying lengths—from eight lines to just one. In this way, the poem expands and contracts throughout. That the single-line stanzas are allotted space before and after them lends these lines a sense of power and authority. Take line 66, which stands apart from the stanzas that surround it:
Here, root yourselves beside me.
This statement feels bold and firm, a call for listeners to feel connected to their country.
In contrast, both of the stanzas listing out various kinds of people (i.e., "So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew" and "You, who gave me my first name, you / Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, You") are some of the longest in the poem. With this length, it is as though the poem itself is expanding to contain all facets of humanity, to invite everyone to "root" themselves in the land.
Also note how Angelou uses stanza breaks to create a kind of logical progression. The poem is meant to be persuasive, and, as such, is structured like an argument. For instance, the Rock, the River, and the Tree are introduced at the beginning of the poem, and then the poem goes on to give voice to each of these elements in the order they were introduced. There is a clear progression of ideas which concludes tidily in the final stanza. In this way, the poem emulates the speeches of activists, politicians, and religious leaders. It is meant to be very clear and accessible, and to inspire in its audience a sense of responsibility and hope.
As it is written in free verse, the poem does not utilize meter. The lack of meter contributes to the rather loose structure of the poem, which is guided by ideas rather than the constraints of language. This, in turn, contributes to the poem's accessibility; it was written with a broad audience in mind, and indeed, part of the appeal of Angelou's poetry is that anyone can read it and get a clear sense of what she is trying to convey. The language feels natural, without any rigidity that would inhibit the poem's performance out loud.
There is one line in the poem that utilizes meter, however. This is line 92:
Offering | you space | to place | new steps | of change.
The meter here is not quite iambic pentameter due to the extra stressed foot at the start of the line, but it comes very close. The result is that this line feels more balanced than the ones surrounding it, with a sense of beauty that comes from the rhythm created by meter. This is fitting, as the speaker is talking about letting go of a "brutish" past in favor of a future where human beings are courageous enough to change.
The poem is written in free verse and as such does not have a rhyme scheme. This keeps things feeling interesting and unpredictable throughout. There are a few moments of rhyme in the poem, however, and the lack of a predictable overall pattern of rhyme makes these moments stand out. Here are a few examples:
Finally, the poem also contains a stanza which does utilize an actual rhyme scheme. Lines 43-48 (So say the [...] homeless, the Teacher.") follow a very straightforward pattern of:
AABBCC
The simplicity of the rhyme scheme—three couplets—has a childlike quality to it, perhaps evoking the innocence of children who have not yet learned to discriminate against each other based on identity. The rhyme between these disparate groups seems to suggest that they are more similar than they are different.
The speaker of "On the Pulse of Morning" is someone who is concerned for the future of humanity and in particular the future of America. This person has a great deal of authority; they understand American history and the way many of its atrocities have been glossed over and left unacknowledged, unaddressed. They understand that in the grand scheme of things, human survival is not guaranteed.
Additionally, the speaker is someone who is comfortable giving voice to the wisdom of the natural world. They are someone who respects and reveres the natural world, and someone who believes that by paying attention to the lessons of nature, humanity can build a stronger and brighter future. To that end, nature itself can be considered another speaker in the poem, as the "Rock," "River," and "Tree"—all symbolic representations of the earth and, specifically, America—exhort humanity to listen to their teachings throughout the poem.
While the speaker should not be confused with the poet, it is worth considering that this poem was written specifically to be read aloud at a presidential inauguration, and therefore is meant to address the nation—a broad audience of many backgrounds and beliefs. Angelou's own role as a prominent activist in the civil rights movements gave her the unique authority to address the nation about the need for progress and change in regard to economic and environmental policy.
Very broadly, the setting for this poem is the earth itself. The poem begins by describing the earth as home to creatures that inhabited it millions of years ago—flashing all the way back to the age of dinosaurs and mastodons—and then quickly shifts to the present, to the here and "now," "today."
The poem deals predominantly in figurative language; the Rock, the River, and the Tree each represent aspects of the earth—they are not literal descriptions of any specific place. Yet, late in the poem, it becomes clear that the Rock, the River, and the Tree also represent America more specifically. For this reason, it's not unreasonable to think of the setting of this poem as America—though not any physical place located in America so much the idea of America itself.
Maya Angelou (1928-2014) was one of the most beloved American writers of the 20th century. Her work, which often explores themes of trauma, oppression, racism, survival, and strength, includes collections of poetry, plays, autobiographies, and children’s literature. She is perhaps most famous for her memoir I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, in which she describes her troubled childhood with an honesty and openness that many of her early critics found shocking and many of her early readers found inspiring.
Angelou was part of the Harlem Writers Guild, a group that supports and honors writers of the African Diaspora. Her work was heavily influenced by the work of other civil rights activists, especially Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and also later by the loss of many of these figures to racial violence. For Angelou and her contemporaries, there was often little divide between literature and activism; art was one more way to reflect, represent, and advocate for Black people and to protest the injustices of racism.
Angelou continued to write until the end of her life in 2014. Her memoirs, poetry, and activism have had a profound and lasting impact on American society. In recognition of her life’s work, President Barack Obama awarded Angelou the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2010.
In addition to being a poet, autobiographical writer, playwright, actress, singer, dancer, and composer, Angelou was also a prominent civil rights activist and served on two different U.S. presidential committees.
Bill Clinton asked her to write and perform a poem at his presidential inauguration in January 1993. Clinton's campaign was successful largely due to his focus on reinvigorating the U.S. economy; in his inaugural speech, he claimed that "a new season of American renewal has begun. To renew America, we must be bold." Angelou supported Clinton's vision for America and later said of her poem that her intention was to draw attention to the ways human beings are more similar to each other than they are different.
Her poem is also in direct correspondence with the only other poem read for a United State presidential inauguration. In January 1961, Robert Frost read his poem "The Gift Outright" at John F. Kennedy's inauguration. His poem begins, "The land was ours before we were the land's." Angelou's poem argues the opposite, that the earth has a history that stretches back far beyond the arrival of human beings, and that if human beings hope to avoid the fate of the mastodon and the dinosaurs, they need to reevaluate their relationship not only to the earth, but to each other.
The Gift Outright — Another inaugural poem, this one by Robert Frost, which was performed at John F. Kennedy's inauguration, and with which Angelou's poem is in conversation.
Poetry and Civil Rights — An introduction to the poetry of the Civil Rights Movement.
The Poem Out Loud — Watch a video recording of Maya Angelou's performance of "On the Pulse of Morning" at the inauguration of President Bill Clinton.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" — An audio recording and written transcript of King Jr.'s famous civil rights speech, which Angelou references in the poem.
Maya Angelou's Biography — Learn more about the poet at the Poetry Foundation.