Indiana

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?”