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.
UNDER THE AGED LOGAN ELM
BY RACHEL E. HUGHES
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.