THE BUCKEYE.
BY ALICE WILLIAMS BROTHERTON.
The rose and the thistle and the
shamrock green
And the leek are the flowers of Britain;
The fleur-de-lys on the flag of France
In a band of blood is written;
But what shall we claim for our own fair
land,
What flower for our own fair token?
The golden rod? or the tasseled maize?
For each has its own bard spoken,
Oh, the tasseled corn for the whole
broad land,
For the Union no power can sever;
But the buckeye brown for the Buckeye
State
Shall be our badge forever.
Like twisted thorns are the waving
plumes
Of the buckeye blossom yellow,
The buckeye leaf is an open hand
To greet either foe or fellow;
And brown as the eyes of the antlered
deer,
Is the fruit from the branches shaken,
Of the sturdy tree that in Buckeye
hearts
Can a loyal throb awaken.
Oh, the tasseled corn for the whole
broad land
For the Union no power can sever;
But the buckeye brown for the Buckeye
State
Shall be our badge forever.
Oh, the stalwart oak, and the bristling
pine
And the beech, are a stately trio;
But dearer to me is the spreading tree
That grows by the fair Ohio.
The buckeye tree with its branches
broad,
Its burr with the brown fruit laden,
Is the dearest tree that springs from
the sod,
To the Buckeye - man or maiden.
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