Beneath the arch of stars and stripes,
Where echoes dwell of ancient gripes,
The seat of power, solemn, grand,
Bestows its charge with steady hand.
No crown adorns the leader's brow,
Yet oaths are sworn with solemn vow:
"Preserve, protect, defend"—the plea
To guard the land of liberty.
A nation's hopes, its deepest fears,
Are held within these fleeting years.
Each decision, bold or grave,
Marks the path the free shall brave.
From Truman's desk to Reagan's call,
The Oval's silence speaks to all.
A place where history's ink is dried,
And destinies are turned or tied.
The role demands a tempered might,
A balance of the just and right.
For every action, every word,
Is by a watching world observed.
So may the one who holds this post
Recall the weight, not merely boast.
For in this office, great and true,
The soul of freedom must renew.
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