Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
 
Indiana
By Daphne Kieffer Thompson
 
  THIS is my Indiana—
There where those long low lines of blue
Lie soft against the sky
Beyond the trees that mark the river’s course.
And here these fertile fields        5
Level and vast—
A mother earth indeed,
Generous and sacrificial.
Oh, I could kneel and kiss
This rich black loam!        10
 
  And here a gate that leads into a school,
The gift of one plain man to generations.
And over there the town upon the hill
Where the ancient cross rises to our skies, too.
Above the square of commerce        15
The court house stands;
And Indians, soldiers, and muses of the Greek
Riot together on its frieze.
 
  Here on this wide free road
The farmer gives me greeting        20
From his high seat atop a load of yellow corn.
He lives, untroubled king, upon a free domain
Where tasseled fields stretch to the sun.
Those golden ears
Are symbol of the pact he keeps        25
With Indiana.
 
  Dear land of common good!
Where on new soil
The old world hopes are more than dreams;
Where freedom, justice, opportunity,        30
Wrested in blood and tears
From the slow centuries,
Are free, free gifts to all.
 
 
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