There are distinct duties of a poet laureate. I plan a reading

Hear the voice of Rita Dove, poet and keeper of words, who once declared: “There are distinct duties of a poet laureate. I plan a reading series at the Library of Congress and advise the librarian. The rest is how I want to promote poetry.” Though spoken with humility, these words resound like a call across the ages. For they remind us that the office of poet laureate is not only a title, but a sacred trust: to carry the song of a people, to guard language from silence, and to use verse as both mirror and torch.

The meaning of distinct duties is discipline. Even the poet, whose art flows from imagination, must serve within boundaries. A laureate must bring poetry to the halls of power, must weave words into the cultural fabric of the land. Dove names these duties plainly—readings, counsel, the shaping of tradition—but then reveals the greater truth: beyond the formal tasks lies the personal mission, the choice of how to promote poetry in the hearts of the people. Here is freedom joined to responsibility, art joined to duty, beauty joined to purpose.

The ancients knew this marriage of poetry and public service. In Greece, poets like Pindar were not merely entertainers but heralds of glory, preserving the triumphs of athletes and cities. In Rome, Virgil’s Aeneid was both poem and national scripture, shaping the very destiny of an empire. Even in distant China, the Tang dynasty celebrated poets as statesmen, whose verses guided emperors as much as policies did. Thus, Dove stands in a lineage as old as civilization: the poet who is also a guardian of culture.

History gives us examples of poets who, like Dove, saw their craft as more than self-expression. Consider William Wordsworth, poet laureate of Britain, who wrote not only for the beauty of nature but to restore the moral imagination of his people after the upheavals of revolution and war. His duties as laureate became a way to remind the nation of its soul. Rita Dove echoes this tradition, bringing poetry into the chambers of governance, proving that verse still has power in the modern age.

Her words also remind us of the dual nature of art. The duties are outward: organizing, advising, structuring. But the promotion of poetry is inward: choosing what voices to lift, what stories to amplify, what truths to shape. Dove hints that the laureate is more than an official—she is a guide. She chooses how poetry will breathe among the people: whether it will speak of justice, of memory, of joy, or of healing. The power of the office lies not in rules, but in vision.

The lesson for us is profound: every calling, no matter how exalted, is both duty and choice. We all have our distinct duties—tasks, roles, obligations—but what gives them life is how we infuse them with personal passion. The poet laureate has her reading series; the worker has their craft; the parent has their household. Yet beyond what is assigned, each of us has the freedom to decide what we will promote, what light we will carry into the world.

Practical wisdom flows from this. Do not despise your duties, but honor them as the foundation of trust. Yet do not stop there—ask yourself what higher purpose you can weave into them. Like Dove, take what is required and add what is inspired. Promote beauty, truth, and goodness in whatever sphere you inhabit. Let your work be not only a task completed, but a gift offered.

Thus, Rita Dove’s words endure as both guidance and challenge: duties anchor us, but vision elevates us. The laureate must serve, but she may also dream. And so must we all. Let future generations remember: greatness lies not only in fulfilling obligations, but in transforming them into opportunities to shape the world with courage, beauty, and love.