It’s a beautiful poem:

Amanda Gorman, the nation’s first-ever youth poet laureate, read the following poem during the inauguration of President Joe Biden on January 20:

When day comes we ask ourselves,

where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry,

a sea we must wade

We’ve braved the belly of the beast

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace

And the norms and notions

of what just is

Isn’t always just-ice

And yet the dawn is ours

before we knew it

Somehow we do it

Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed

a nation that isn’t broken

but simply unfinished

We the successors of a country and a time

Where a skinny Black girl

descended from slaves and raised by a single mother

can dream of becoming president

only to find herself reciting for one

And yes we are far from polished

far from pristine

but that doesn’t mean we are

striving to form a union that is perfect

We are striving to forge a union with purpose

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and

conditions of man

And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us

but what stands before us

We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,

we must first put our differences aside

We lay down our arms

so we can reach out our arms

to one another

We seek harm to none and harmony for all

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:

That even as we grieved, we grew

That even as we hurt, we hoped

That even as we tired, we tried

That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious

Not because we will never again know defeat

but because we will never again sow division

Scripture tells us to envision

that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree

And no one shall make them afraid

If we’re to live up to our own time

Then victory won’t lie in the blade

But in all the bridges we’ve made

That is the promise to glade

The hill we climb

If only we dare

It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,

it’s the past we step into

and how we repair it

We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation

rather than share it

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy

And this effort very nearly succeeded

But while democracy can be periodically delayed

it can never be permanently defeated

In this truth

in this faith we trust

For while we have our eyes on the future

history has its eyes on us

This is the era of just redemption

We feared at its inception

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs

of such a terrifying hour

but within it we found the power

to author a new chapter

To offer hope and laughter to ourselves

So while once we asked,

how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?

Now we assert

How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was

but move to what shall be

A country that is bruised but whole,

benevolent but bold,

fierce and free

We will not be turned around

or interrupted by intimidation

because we know our inaction and inertia

will be the inheritance of the next generation

Our blunders become their burdens

But one thing is certain:

If we merge mercy with might,

and might with right,

then love becomes our legacy

and change our children’s birthright

So let us leave behind a country

better than the one we were left with

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,

we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one

We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,

we will rise from the windswept northeast

where our forefathers first realized revolution

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,

we will rise from the sunbaked south

We will rebuild, reconcile and recover

and every known nook of our nation and

every corner called our country,

our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,

battered and beautiful

When day comes we step out of the shade,

aflame and unafraid

The new dawn blooms as we free it

For there is always light,

if only we’re brave enough to see it

If only we’re brave enough to be it.

You can read this and other similar English usage posts at www.merriam-webster.com/grammar.

What to Know

The earliest sense of comprise, “to be made up of” (‘the cake comprises eggs, sugar, and flour’), is often regarded as the only correct use. The use meaning “compose, constitute” (‘the cake is comprised of eggs, sugar, and flour’) is well established, though you may be criticized for using it.

Beginning in the early 20th century, a number of usage guides decided that there was something wrong with the way that some writers used comprise. The sense meaning “to be made up of” was fine (“the compound comprises seven buildings”), but the one meaning “compose, constitute,” which is most familiar in the passive voice, was found objectionable (“the compound is comprised of seven buildings”). In the active voice, we clearly see that the meaning does in fact stand in awkward opposition to the “to be made up of” meaning (“seven buildings comprise the compound”). The Brothers Fowler made note of the construction comprised of in their book The King’s English. Although the mention is quite brief, they appear to have, somewhat half-heartedly, suggested using composed of or comprising rather than comprised of.

The “Rule” Around ‘Comprised Of’

This restriction on the use of comprise may be neatly summed up by quoting usage writer Roy Copperud, who in 1970 averred “The whole comprises the parts; thus is comprised of is wrong.” The combination of comprised with of is hardly new; although not the earliest sense of the word it has been in use for hundreds of years.

The third which is comprised of many and sundry (as suppose of many bodies comprehended vnder one name:) as the people, a congregation, an armie, a legion.
— S. R., The Choice of Change, 1585

Historical and Moderns Usage of ‘Comprised Of’

It should be noted that simply having been in use for hundreds of years does not necessarily make a construction correct. However, it should also be noted that a body of writers deciding that a well established usage is wrong does not necessarily make a construction incorrect. There is considerable evidence of comprised of in well-edited publications throughout the 20th century:

…it was universally believed that mankind was comprised of a single species.
— Ashley Montagu, Man’s Most Dangerous Myth, 1945

…a great many of the present-day centers are comprised of militant groups.
— Irving Louis Horowitz, Center Magazine, May 1969

The audience, comprised mainly of undergraduates in sneakers and denim….
— William Kucewicz, The Wall Street Journal, 19 Jan. 1981

And into the current century as well:

A nation comprised of 99% sea, the Maldives sees fishing not just an industry but as a way of life.
— Rosie Magudia, The Guardian, 30 Aug. 2013

Even if you despise comprised of and have made it your life’s work to expunge it from the writing of others, chances are very good that you never approached the level of dedication exhibited by the Wikipedia editor who, over a period of years, deleted tens of thousands of uses of comprised of from that website (in addition to writing a 5,000 word explanatory article).

It seems safe to say that few of us have this level of animus towards any particular use of a word. Many people see nothing wrong with comprised of, although they still might feel apprehensive about using it, given that there are others who so strongly object to its use. If you are one of these apprehensive writers of comprised of we can offer you the following words from our Dictionary of English Usage:

Our advice to you is to realize that the disputed sense is established and standard, but nevertheless liable to criticism. If such criticism concerns you, you can probably avoid comprise by using compose, constitute, or make up, whichever fits your sentence best.

You can read this and other similar English usage posts at www.merriam-webster.com/grammar.

What to Know

The earliest sense of comprise, “to be made up of” (‘the cake comprises eggs, sugar, and flour’), is often regarded as the only correct use. The use meaning “compose, constitute” (‘the cake is comprised of eggs, sugar, and flour’) is well established, though you may be criticized for using it.

Beginning in the early 20th century, a number of usage guides decided that there was something wrong with the way that some writers used comprise. The sense meaning “to be made up of” was fine (“the compound comprises seven buildings”), but the one meaning “compose, constitute,” which is most familiar in the passive voice, was found objectionable (“the compound is comprised of seven buildings”). In the active voice, we clearly see that the meaning does in fact stand in awkward opposition to the “to be made up of” meaning (“seven buildings comprise the compound”). The Brothers Fowler made note of the construction comprised of in their book The King’s English. Although the mention is quite brief, they appear to have, somewhat half-heartedly, suggested using composed of or comprising rather than comprised of.

The “Rule” Around ‘Comprised Of’

This restriction on the use of comprise may be neatly summed up by quoting usage writer Roy Copperud, who in 1970 averred “The whole comprises the parts; thus is comprised of is wrong.” The combination of comprised with of is hardly new; although not the earliest sense of the word it has been in use for hundreds of years.

The third which is comprised of many and sundry (as suppose of many bodies comprehended vnder one name:) as the people, a congregation, an armie, a legion.
— S. R., The Choice of Change, 1585

Historical and Moderns Usage of ‘Comprised Of’

It should be noted that simply having been in use for hundreds of years does not necessarily make a construction correct. However, it should also be noted that a body of writers deciding that a well established usage is wrong does not necessarily make a construction incorrect. There is considerable evidence of comprised of in well-edited publications throughout the 20th century:

…it was universally believed that mankind was comprised of a single species.
— Ashley Montagu, Man’s Most Dangerous Myth, 1945

…a great many of the present-day centers are comprised of militant groups.
— Irving Louis Horowitz, Center Magazine, May 1969

The audience, comprised mainly of undergraduates in sneakers and denim….
— William Kucewicz, The Wall Street Journal, 19 Jan. 1981

And into the current century as well:

A nation comprised of 99% sea, the Maldives sees fishing not just an industry but as a way of life.
— Rosie Magudia, The Guardian, 30 Aug. 2013

Even if you despise comprised of and have made it your life’s work to expunge it from the writing of others, chances are very good that you never approached the level of dedication exhibited by the Wikipedia editor who, over a period of years, deleted tens of thousands of uses of comprised of from that website (in addition to writing a 5,000 word explanatory article).

It seems safe to say that few of us have this level of animus towards any particular use of a word. Many people see nothing wrong with comprised of, although they still might feel apprehensive about using it, given that there are others who so strongly object to its use. If you are one of these apprehensive writers of comprised of we can offer you the following words from our Dictionary of English Usage:

Our advice to you is to realize that the disputed sense is established and standard, but nevertheless liable to criticism. If such criticism concerns you, you can probably avoid comprise by using compose, constitute, or make up, whichever fits your sentence best.

Q: What is the origin of the phrase “like stink” (as in “run like stink”)? I know what it means, but not why it means that.

A: “Like stink” has been used colloquially in British English since the early 20th century to mean furiously or intensely. It’s similar to “like hell,” “like mad,” and “like crazy,” intensifiers of a type that dates back to the early 16th century.

The Oxford English Dictionary’s earliest “like stink” example, which we’ve expanded, is from a play set in the trenches of a British Army infantry company during World War I:

“If you see a Minnie coming—that’s a big trench mortar shell, you know—short for Minnywerfe—you see ’em come right out of the Boche trenches, right up in the air, then down, down, down; and you have to judge it and run like stink sometimes.”

(From Journey’s End, by the English playwright R. C. Sherriff. Laurence Olivier starred in the play when it first opened at the Apollo Theatre in London on Dec. 9, 1928.)

The word “like” is used similarly in American as well as British English in many other colloquial expressions that indicate doing something intensely: “run like blazes,” “fight like the dickens,” “write like a house on fire,” and so on.

As the OED explains, “like” is “now typically analysed as a preposition” when used “in proverbial similes,” specifically “in phrases describing an action carried out rapidly, with great vigour or energy, or without restraint or limitation.”

In these colloquial phrases, according to the dictionary, “the complement of like is taken as expressive of vigour, energy, etc., rather than being obviously similative.” You might say that they look like similes and act like adverbs.

The usage dates from at least the early 1500s, as in this OED example about somebody who devours food without restraint, leaving little for his companions to eat:

“One doth another tell / Se how he fedeth, lyke the deuyll of hell / Our parte he eteth nought good shall we tast” (from Egloges, a collection of eclogues, or short poems, written around 1530 by the Anglican priest and poet Alexander Barclay).

The dictionary has two older examples in which “as” is used instead of “like.” The oldest is from The Romance of William of Palerne (circa 1350), an anonymous Middle English translation of Guillaume de Palerme, a French tale written around 1200.

In the part of the tale cited, the Holy Roman Emperor wonders where his daughter is. When told that she isn’t in her chamber, he goes to see for himself and “driues in at þat dore as a deuel of helle” (“rushes in through the door as a devil of hell”).

Finally, we should mention that the energetic sense of “stink” may perhaps have been influenced by the use of the word in the early 19th century for a commotion or a fuss. The first Oxford example for the earlier sense is from a glossary of underworld slang:

“When any robbery of moment has been committed, which causes much alarm, or of which much is said in the daily papers, the family people will say, there is a great stink about it” (New and Comprehensive Vocabulary of the Flash Language, 1812, by James Hardy Vaux).

Q: What is the origin of the phrase “like stink” (as in “run like stink”)? I know what it means, but not why it means that.

A: “Like stink” has been used colloquially in British English since the early 20th century to mean furiously or intensely. It’s similar to “like hell,” “like mad,” and “like crazy,” intensifiers of a type that dates back to the early 16th century.

The Oxford English Dictionary’s earliest “like stink” example, which we’ve expanded, is from a play set in the trenches of a British Army infantry company during World War I:

“If you see a Minnie coming—that’s a big trench mortar shell, you know—short for Minnywerfe—you see ’em come right out of the Boche trenches, right up in the air, then down, down, down; and you have to judge it and run like stink sometimes.”

(From Journey’s End, by the English playwright R. C. Sherriff. Laurence Olivier starred in the play when it first opened at the Apollo Theatre in London on Dec. 9, 1928.)

The word “like” is used similarly in American as well as British English in many other colloquial expressions that indicate doing something intensely: “run like blazes,” “fight like the dickens,” “write like a house on fire,” and so on.

As the OED explains, “like” is “now typically analysed as a preposition” when used “in proverbial similes,” specifically “in phrases describing an action carried out rapidly, with great vigour or energy, or without restraint or limitation.”

In these colloquial phrases, according to the dictionary, “the complement of like is taken as expressive of vigour, energy, etc., rather than being obviously similative.” You might say that they look like similes and act like adverbs.

The usage dates from at least the early 1500s, as in this OED example about somebody who devours food without restraint, leaving little for his companions to eat:

“One doth another tell / Se how he fedeth, lyke the deuyll of hell / Our parte he eteth nought good shall we tast” (from Egloges, a collection of eclogues, or short poems, written around 1530 by the Anglican priest and poet Alexander Barclay).

The dictionary has two older examples in which “as” is used instead of “like.” The oldest is from The Romance of William of Palerne (circa 1350), an anonymous Middle English translation of Guillaume de Palerme, a French tale written around 1200.

In the part of the tale cited, the Holy Roman Emperor wonders where his daughter is. When told that she isn’t in her chamber, he goes to see for himself and “driues in at þat dore as a deuel of helle” (“rushes in through the door as a devil of hell”).

Finally, we should mention that the energetic sense of “stink” may perhaps have been influenced by the use of the word in the early 19th century for a commotion or a fuss. The first Oxford example for the earlier sense is from a glossary of underworld slang:

“When any robbery of moment has been committed, which causes much alarm, or of which much is said in the daily papers, the family people will say, there is a great stink about it” (New and Comprehensive Vocabulary of the Flash Language, 1812, by James Hardy Vaux).