“The intersection of art and artificial intelligence is where imagination meets innovation, sparking a revolution in human potential.”

–Attributed to Ray Kurzweil (b. 1948; prominent American inventor, futurist, and author known for his groundbreaking work in artificial intelligence and technological forecasting.)

When I opened my kitchen door one morning last week, I knew that my lilacs had bloomed overnight. Their fragrance washed over my mountaintop world, signaling their presence long before I laid eyes on them. Amidst the whispers of spring’s arrival, my garden became a canvas painted in hues of lilac. Delicate clusters of lilac-colored blooms burst forth from slender branches, their petals unfurling like tiny, fragrant clouds against the blue sky. Each blossom carried a mesmerizing hue, ranging from soft lavender to rich violet, casting a gentle spell over the landscape. As the sunlight danced upon their petals, they seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly radiance, infusing my yard with tranquility and beauty. In their ephemeral splendor, my lilacs evoked a sense of wonder and awe, reminding me of the fleeting yet profound magic of nature’s creations.

At the same time, my lilacs transported me instantly to “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” Walt Whitman’s poignant elegiac response to the 1865 assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.

It’s a long poem–16 free-verse stanzas, totaling 206 lines–that I remember from high school. I never made any attempt to memorize the entire poem, but I vowed to carry the first stanza around with me in my head forever so that I could forever celebrate Lincoln and Whitman whenever life gave me lilacs:

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.

I have been faithful to my vow down through the years. These days, here on my mountaintop, whenever my lilacs bloom, I linger–sometimes standing, sometimes pacing, sometimes kneeling–and I recite Whitman’s lines, inhaling deeply as I anchor myself to the deep roots of then, of now, and of eternity.

This past week, when the heady fragrance heralded my lilacs blooming, I felt an urgency to share what I experienced on Facebook. I posted several photos of my lilacs along with a brief sentence or two leading to the full text of “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.” Even as I uploaded the poem, I thought to myself:

“Way too long. Not many followers will read the poem.”

As soon as I hit POST, my doubt weighed even heavier. By now, I know. FB folks like photos. FB folks like short. FB folks like clever. Of course, we do. I can relate. We need to move on so that we can LIKE whatever it is that we choose to like (or not) next.

I sat there nearly wishing that I had simply provided a summary of the poem for those who didn’t have time to read it all. I could have done so with ready ease, especially since I often taught the poem in my college-level American Literature courses. Even though it’s a long poem, it’s not hard to grasp. Through vivid imagery and lyrical language, Whitman mourns Lincoln’s death and explores themes of grief, nature, and the passage of time. The lilacs in the poem symbolize mourning and renewal, while the thrush’s song serves as a solemn requiem. Whitman’s elegy reflects on the impact of Lincoln’s death on the nation and contemplates the enduring cycle of life and death. The poem is considered one of Whitman’s greatest works and a masterpiece of American literature, capturing the profound emotions surrounding a pivotal moment in our nation’s history.

Of course, I had the option to edit my FB post and include a summary comparable to the preceding paragraph as a way perhaps of teasing my FB followers to read the entire poem. As I considered that option, an unthinkable thought strolled across my mindscape.

“See what kind of summary ChatGPT can write. Better still, ask ChatGPT to write a sonnet that captures the essence of Whitman’s poem.”

I know. I know. How dare I write about a famous elegy and pull AI into the same discussion? I confess that even for an ardent AI lover like me, bringing the two together felt almost like a sacrilege. Yet, there I was, grappling with the intersection of technology and poetry. I felt uneasy, yet the idea was already planted in my brain. I had to do something with it, and ignoring the idea was not an option.

It seemed to me in that moment–and it seems to me now–that I could let AI fool around with “When Lilac’s Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” without in any way diminishing my reverence for the original poem, for Whitman, or for his morning of Lincoln’s death. It seemed to me that I had an obligation to explore the idea that had grabbed hold of me just as intensely as the heady fragrance of my lilacs had commanded my respectful attention.

It was from that perspective that I set out not only to see what AI might do but also to see what I might learn. I knew, at that point, that I didn’t want a summary of the poem. I wanted to see whether AI could write a sonnet that would capture the essence of the original poem.

I started with ChatGPT, asking them to rewrite Whitman’s poem as a sonnet, keeping its message and Whitman’s poetic style. Below is ChatGPT’s untitled sonnet:

When lilacs bloomed in dooryard’s sacred space,
And starry heavens wept with evening’s dew,
I mourned, embracing nature’s tender grace,
For Lincoln, lost, in death’s embrace so true.

The thrush’s song, a solemn requiem,
Through leafy boughs, did echo sorrow’s call.
As cedars wept, o’er fields and stream, with them,
I wandered, grief’s heavy cloak did befall.

Yet midst the mourning, there bloomed a light,
A radiant orb, in darkness’ deep domain.
A symbol of hope, amid the endless night,
In death’s embrace, new life shall yet attain.

Though Lilacs fade, and time’s cruel hand may sever,
In nature’s cycle, life renews forever.

As I reached the end of the sonnet, I wondered what ChatGPT would have to say about their own poetic flight:

“Does your sonnet capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem?”

While I aimed to capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem, it’s important to note that translating a work as rich and complex as “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” into a different poetic form inevitably entails some loss of nuance and depth. My sonnet attempts to convey Whitman’s themes of mourning, nature’s solace, and the cycle of life and death within the constraints of the sonnet form, but it necessarily condenses and simplifies the original work. Whitman’s poem is expansive and deeply personal, and my sonnet can only offer a glimpse of its profound beauty and significance.

So, there you have it. Well, actually, you don’t have it all, not yet. There’s another chatbot that Microsoft launched on February 7, 2023. Copilot is billed as “your everyday AI companion” that searches for specific information, generates text such as emails and summaries, and creates images based on text prompts.

If I had committed a sacrilege by asking ChatGPT to turn Whitman’s famous poem into a sonnet, then I had just as well enjoy my transgression more fully by putting Copilot through the same hoops. I had to do so. I had no other choice. Read Copilot’s sonnet below:

When Lilacs Bloomed

When lilacs graced the dooryard, skies aglow,
And stars, like tears, descended in the west,
I mourned, and shall, as seasons come and go,
With spring’s return, my heart forever pressed.

Perennial lilacs, fragrant and profound,
Their purple blooms a balm for grief and pain,
While stars, once bright, now hidden in night’s shroud,
Evoke memories of love that still remain.

O fallen star, your absence veils the land,
Yet lilacs whisper solace to my soul,
In heart-shaped leaves, a tender touch, a strand,
A sprig of hope, where grief and memories toll.

So let this sonnet bloom, a lilac’s grace,
A tribute to the lost, in time and space.

You may have guessed what’s coming next. Yep. I asked Copilot the same question that I asked ChatGPT: “Does your sonnet capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem?” Copilot responded as follows:

Indeed, my sonnet endeavors to echo the essence of Walt Whitman’s original poem, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.” Like Whitman, I pay homage to loss, memory, and the natural world. The lilacs, stars, and grief remain central, albeit in a condensed form. While my sonnet may not encompass every nuance, it seeks to honor the spirit of Whitman’s elegy.

Done? Not quite! We’ve got a new kid on the block, and they deserve a chance, too: Meta AI. They’ve been rolled out across various social media platforms: WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook, and Messenger. They can answer questions, create animations, and generate “high quality” images, according to Meta’s CEO, Mark Zuckerberg. Also, they’re built on the company’s latest large language model called Meta Llama 3.

Sounds impressive, no? Obviously, I had to see what kind of Whitmanesque sonnet they could create, using the same guidelines that I had been using. Here’s Meta AI’s poetic flight:

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d and fell,
A solemn requiem for the fallen chief,
The nation’s sorrow echoed, a mournful knell,
As death’s dark veil shrouded the presidential seat.

The fragrant blooms, like memories, did cling
To Lincoln’s legacy, a bittersweet refrain,
The thrush’s song, a dirge, did sorrowfully ring,
As nature mourned with us, in sympathetic pain.

Yet, in the midst of grief, a glimmer shone,
A hope that death may not forever reign,
For just as lilacs bloom again, so may be known
A resurrection, a new birth from pain.

And so we’ll hold the memory of him dear,
And cherish every bloom that dooryards bring near.

Obviously, too, I asked Meta AI the same question that I had asked their counterparts: “Does your sonnet capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem?” Meta AI responded:

My sonnet attempts to distill the essence of Whitman’s original poem, but it’s a challenging task to condense the complexity and nuance of Whitman’s poetry into a shorter form like a sonnet. Whitman’s poem is known for its free verse style, which allows for a more fluid and expansive exploration of themes and emotions.

My sonnet aims to capture the core themes of mourning, memory, and the cyclical nature of life and death, but it necessarily leaves out some of the richness and detail of the original poem. Whitman’s poem is also deeply rooted in the context of Lincoln’s assassination and the American Civil War, which adds a layer of historical and cultural significance that my sonnet can only allude to.

That being said, I tried to stay true to the spirit of Whitman’s poem by using language and imagery that evokes a sense of reverence, sorrow, and hope. I hope that my sonnet can serve as a tribute to Whitman’s original work and inspire readers to explore the beauty and power of his poetry.

So, there you have it. For now. Yes? Actually, no. We never really have it. Not ever. We’re constantly growing and learning and changing. Isn’t that what makes life worth living?

But, for now, let’s pretend that you really do have it all, everything that you need to transport yourself magically to somewhere that only you can decide and that only you will know whether and when you reach your destination.

● You’ve got Whitman’s original masterpiece, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.” I wonder: will you read it, the entire original version? I wonder: will you let one line linger longer with you than all of the others? I wonder: what line? why?

● You’ve got three AI-generated sonnets, each one a 14-line version of Whitman’s original 206-line elegy. I wonder: will you revisit them and decide which one is best?

● You’ve got their own assessment of their sonnets. I wonder: which one do you think is most insightful?

● You’ve seen three AI generators in action, tackling the same task. I wonder: which one would you want as your “everyday AI companion”? ChatGPT? Copilot? Meta AI?

As for me, I’ve gone and fooled around for another week, and now, I’m leaning back on my pillow with a wider than wide smile on my face. This has been as much fun as being in class, giving my students exactly what I have given you, asking them to think about our conversation until we meet again.

Right now, though, I’m thinking about one thing, and I’m chuckling. When my lilacs bloomed last week, I never dreamt that their fragrance and their sight would take me on a journey into the intersection of Walt Whitman’s poetry and artificial intelligence. Yet it did, and I’m glad that the magic happened. It gave me a platform to champion once more the ever-growing role of AI in shaping our understanding of the world around us. AI is not a novelty or a passing trend. It is a powerful tool that is here to stay. We must embrace its capabilities, harness its potential, and use it to deepen our appreciation and gain new insights into even the most sacrosanct aspects of human experience, including poetry. By engaging with AI-generated content, we open ourselves to new perspectives and new opportunities for learning, challenging us to reevaluate our assumptions and to expand our horizons.

However, as we navigate this complex landscape, let’s remember that AI is not a replacement for human creativity. It is a complement to it, a tool that amplifies our capabilities and extends the boundaries of our imagination. By embracing AI as a partner in our inquiries, we can unlock new avenues of expression and deepen our appreciation for the beauty and complexity of the human experience. As we move forward, let us continue to embrace the possibilities of AI, recognizing its capacity to enrich our lives and enhance our understanding of the world we inhabit.

One more thing, Dear Reader. If you haven’t read Whitman’s “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” please read it in its entirety. If you have read it before, please read it once again. In either case, I hope that you read the poem, appropriately, amidst lilacs, and, as you read, I hope their heady fragrance washes over your world and refreshes your soul.