Ohio History Journal

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548 Ohio Arch

548      Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications

The little band in homespun suits,

To whom our ancestry we trace

With pride, were Freedom's first recruits --

The heroes of a noble race;

They heard the call of Paul Revere --

His rousing cry: "To arms! to arms!"

And eager flocked from far and near,

The stalwart yeomen of the farms.

Hail to the men that made us free!

Hail to the stainless swords they drew:

A thousand years will never see

Forgetfulness of men so true;

Their deeds will live while grandly waves

The flag of a united land

Above their scattered, sacred graves,

From mountain height to ocean strand.




Beautiful tree how well you have fared,

And for many more years we'd have you spared,

Standing alone through all the years,

Have you been lonely, have you, shed tears?

Will you lend today a listening ear?

For this page is written for you to hear.

As a bit of God's handiwork, stately and grand --

You're here where he placed you and secretly planned

To give you a place in His hall of fame,

Are you not proud of the honor, proud of the name,

Attracting to you the once savage Chief?

You listened, I'm sure, to his story brief,

And he sought you out among others to be

The Logan Elm, the history tree.

Yes, days long ago, but somehow 'tis sweet

To go back to the Indian's happy retreat --

Back to his once happy hunting ground.

But "Lo The Poor Indian" no longer around

My Indian is here and every day

I see him back in the same old way.

But no: that day is forever gone now --

The day when Logan sat 'neath your bough;

For Bow and Arrow days have fled.