The Poetry Corner

Indiana

By James Whitcomb Riley

Our Land - our Home - the common home indeed Of soil-born children and adopted ones - The stately daughters and the stalwart sons Of Industry: All greeting and godspeed! O home to proudly live for, and if need Be proudly die for, with the roar of guns Blent with our latest prayer. So died men once... Lo Peace...! As we look on the land They freed - Its harvests all in ocean-over flow Poured round autumnal coasts in billowy gold - Its corn and wine and balmed fruits and flow'rs, We know the exaltation that they know Who now, steadfast inheritors, behold The Land Elysian, marvelling "This is ours?"