John Dewey's Poetry

Abstract

The fact that John Dewey was a writer of poetry during an important phase of his life-chiefly the decade of his fifties -comes as a surprise to most people, including many who consider themselves to be serious students of Dewey's works. There are two good reasons this should be so, the more obvious being that Dewey's poems-of which 98 are known to exist-were a rather well-kept secret during his lifetime and remained so for nearly two decades thereafter. Indeed, it was not until 1977, 25 years after Dewey's death, that the poems finally appeared in print (Boydston 1977). Their sheer existence, to say nothing of their availability in book form, is still news to many people, hence the raised eyebrows from most quarters whenever that news is announced. A second reason for the surprise that greets the mere mention of Dewey's verse is that the image of him as a versifier comes as a bit of a shock to many people who thought they had a reasonably good idea of what the man was like. That idea, based on the usual mixture of sketches, photographs, and personal anecdotes, plus what is known about Dewey's lifelong involvement in world affairs and his overall demeanor as a philosopher, portrays him as being rather saintlike in appearance-serene, sagacious, silver-haired (not unlike some famous poets, come to think of it!)-but altogether too down to earth, too much the political activist, and somehow too serious to spend his time and energy on such frivolous matters as adjusting rhymes and rhythms and all the rest of the spit and polish that the writing of poetry, even amateur poetry, entails. There is, additionally, the contraindication provided by Dewey's prose, lumbering and awkward as so much of it is-hardly the work of a person who enjoys playing with words. Even as generous a critic as Oliver Wendell Holmes had to pronounce some of it to be incredibly ill written (Coughlan 1975, p. 151). Dewey wrote, said Holmes, the way God would have spoken had He been inarticulate but keenly