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

Level and vast—

A mother earth indeed,

Generous and sacrificial.

Oh, I could kneel and kiss

This rich black loam!

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

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

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

With Indiana.

Dear land of common good!

Where on new soil

The old world hopes are more than dreams;

Where freedom, justice, opportunity,

Wrested in blood and tears

From the slow centuries,

Are free, free gifts to all.