Robert Frost and the poem never recited at John F. Kennedy's inauguration.

Time is gentlest on our memories. On the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's death, we remember everything that occurred that day in Dallas. We know the story of the man from a privileged family who would become president, we know his skills, his flaws, the potential, and the idealism we like to imagine would have come forth if history changed. 

But instead of focusing on the the man's end, let us focus on the presidential beginning.

By the time Robert Frost was nearing his 85th birthday, he was long cemented an elder statesmen of American culture and entrenched as New England's poet. On March 26th, 1959, at a gala to celebrate his 85th birthday, Frost was part of a news conference at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City, according to Poets.org. At one point, a journalist asked if New England's influence on America was declining. Frost's reply?

"The next president of the United States will be from Boston. Does that sound as if New England is decaying?"

When pressed, Frost suggested the junior senator from Massachusetts, John Kennedy, would be that president. From that point, the two men with ties to New England were intertwined, praising one another at every turn. Frost routinely mentioned Kennedy's candidacy whenever he gave lectures or spoke, and Kennedy often quoted Frost's poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' during campaign speeches.

After Kennedy's election, Frost was asked by the incoming president if he might offer a dedicatory poem at the inauguration. Frost cabled back a reply:

IF YOU CAN BEAR AT YOUR AGE THE HONOR OF BEING MADE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, I OUGHT TO BE ABLE AT MY AGE TO BEAR THE HONOR OF TAKING SOME PART IN YOUR INAUGURATION. I MAY NOT BE EQUAL TO IT BUT I CAN ACCEPT IT FOR MY CAUSE—THE ARTS, POETRY, NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME TAKEN INTO THE AFFAIRS OF STATESMEN.

Kennedy left it open to Frost to decide if it would be an entirely new poem or an old classic from his canon (the president-elect favored 'The Gift Outright'). Frost, possibly inspired by the events and rarity of such a scenario--being the first poet asked to read at a presidential inauguration--chose to write a brand new poem, entitled 'Dedication.'

IF YOU CAN BEAR AT YOUR AGE THE HONOR OF BEING MADE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, I OUGHT TO BE ABLE AT MY AGE TO BEAR THE HONOR OF TAKING SOME PART IN YOUR INAUGURATION. I MAY NOT BE EQUAL TO IT BUT I CAN ACCEPT IT FOR MY CAUSE—THE ARTS, POETRY, NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME TAKEN INTO THE AFFAIRS OF STATESMEN. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20540#sthash.hfok8VI4.dpuf

IF YOU CAN BEAR AT YOUR AGE THE HONOR OF BEING MADE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, I OUGHT TO BE ABLE AT MY AGE TO BEAR THE HONOR OF TAKING SOME PART IN YOUR INAUGURATION. I MAY NOT BE EQUAL TO IT BUT I CAN ACCEPT IT FOR MY CAUSE—THE ARTS, POETRY, NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME TAKEN INTO THE AFFAIRS OF STATESMEN. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20540#sthash.hfok8VI4.dpuf

Inauguration day couldn't have had worse conditions for the then 86-year old poet, who was of failing sight. A heavy blanket of snow covered Washington, D.C. the night before, leaving the morning with a high pressure system that ushered in crystal blue skies, bright sunshine, and biting wind. Frost's poem was typed out in faint ink on a hotel typewriter the night before--and Frost feared the combination of glare from sunlight and snow mixed with faint ink would make it impossible for him to read.

And it did, as this video snippet below shows. Frost struggles with the start of 'Dedication,' before Richard Nixon offers his top hat to create a shadow, and Lyndon Johnson and others tries to lend a hand. But, much as Kennedy predicted months before when he told an aide "Oh, no. You know that Robert Frost always steals any show he is a part of," Frost casually takes the top hat, creating a good laugh for all.

But Frost would give up after struggling to read in the glare and wind. Thinking quickly in a moment--and apparently well-versed in remembering his poetry of days gone by--the old poet immediately recited 'The Gift Outright' from memory.

The four minute video snippet of Frost on inauguration day:

The original poem, 'Dedication,' was long forgotten. History remembered Frost reciting 'The Gift Outright,' and time moved on.

Forty-five years later, at the JFK Presidential Library in Boston, a package arrived in the mail unexpectedly. Inside was a copy of 'Dedication,' handwritten by Frost. As Deborah Leff, Director at the library, told NBC News, "We didn't even know that this was something that we didn't have. We didn't even know this existed."

The archivist at the library noticed some faded, penciled words written on the back of the paper. The message was from Jacqueline Kennedy to her husband. The message: "For Jack, First thing I had framed to put in your office — first thing to be hung there."

John F. Kennedy's inauguration somewhat started a tradition. In total, five poets have read at presidential swearing-ins, starting with Frost, then Maya Angelou, Miller Williams, Elizabeth Alexander, and Richard Blanco. For what it's worth, only Democratic presidents have asked poets to recite (Kennedy, Clinton, and Obama). No one has ever deciphered why Republican presidents haven't joined in the tradition--and we won't tackle that here.

As for Frost's original poem from that day in 1961, the poem shielded from glare and lost to time, it is as follows:

Dedication

Summoning artists to participate
In the august occasions of the state
Seems something artists ought to celebrate.
Today is for my cause a day of days.
And his be poetry's old-fashioned praise
Who was the first to think of such a thing.
This verse that in acknowledgement I bring
Goes back to the beginning of the end
Of what had been for centuries the trend;
A turning point in modern history.
Colonial had been the thing to be
As long as the great issue was to see
What country'd be the one to dominate
By character, by tongue, by native trait,
The new world Christopher Columbus found.
The French, the Spanish, and the Dutch were downed
And counted out. Heroic deeds were done.
Elizabeth the First and England won.
Now came on a new order of the ages
That in the Latin of our founding sages
(Is it not written on the dollar bill
We carry in our purse and pocket still?)
God nodded his approval of as good.
So much those heroes knew and understood,
I mean the great four, Washington,
John Adams, Jefferson, and Madison
So much they saw as consecrated seers
They must have seen ahead what not appears,
They would bring empires down about our ears
And by the example of our Declaration
Make everybody want to be a nation.
And this is no aristocratic joke
At the expense of negligible folk.
We see how seriously the races swarm
In their attempts at sovereignty and form.
They are our wards we think to some extent
For the time being and with their consent,
To teach them how Democracy is meant.
"New order of the ages" did they say?
If it looks none too orderly today,
'Tis a confusion it was ours to start
So in it have to take courageous part.
No one of honest feeling would approve
A ruler who pretended not to love
A turbulence he had the better of.
Everyone knows the glory of the twain
Who gave America the aeroplane
To ride the whirlwind and the hurricane.
Some poor fool has been saying in his heart
Glory is out of date in life and art.
Our venture in revolution and outlawry
Has justified itself in freedom's story
Right down to now in glory upon glory.
Come fresh from an election like the last,
The greatest vote a people ever cast,
So close yet sure to be abided by,
It is no miracle our mood is high.
Courage is in the air in bracing whiffs
Better than all the stalemate an's and ifs.
There was the book of profile tales declaring
For the emboldened politicians daring
To break with followers when in the wrong,
A healthy independence of the throng,
A democratic form of right devine
To rule first answerable to high design.
There is a call to life a little sterner,
And braver for the earner, learner, yearner.
Less criticism of the field and court
And more preoccupation with the sport.
It makes the prophet in us all presage
The glory of a next Augustan age
Of a power leading from its strength and pride,
Of young ambition eager to be tried,
Firm in our free beliefs without dismay,
In any game the nations want to play.
A golden age of poetry and power
Of which this noonday's the beginning hour.