<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=532781" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Proud Farmer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">[In memory of E. S. Frazee, Rush County, Indiana]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Into the acres of the newborn state <br>He poured his strength, and plowed his ancient name, <br>And, when the traders followed him, he stood <br>Towering above their furtive souls and tame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That brow without a stain, that fearless eye <br>Oft left the passing stranger wondering <br>To find such knighthood in the sprawling land, <br>To see a democrat well-nigh a king. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He lived with liberal hand, with guests from far, <br>With talk and joke and fellowship to spare, — <br>Watching the wide world's life from sun to sun, <br>Lining his walls with books from everywhere. <br>He read by night, he built his world by day. <br>The farm and house of God to him were one. <br>For forty years he preached and plowed and wrought — <br>A statesman in the fields, who bent to none. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">His plowmen-neighbors were as lords to him. <br>His was an ironside, democratic pride. <br>He served a rigid Christ, but served him well — <br>And, for a lifetime, saved the countryside. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here lie the dead, who gave the church their best <br>Under his fiery preaching of the word. <br>They sleep with him beneath the ragged grass... <br>The village withers, by his voice unstirred. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And tho' his tribe be scattered to the wind <br>From the Atlantic to the China sea, <br>Yet do they think of that bright lamp he burned <br>Of family worth and proud integrity. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And many a sturdy grandchild hears his name <br>In reverence spoken, till he feels akin <br>To all the lion-eyed who built the world — <br>And lion-dreams begin to burn within.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Vachel+Lindsay">Vachel Lindsay</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=532781" data-title="The Proud Farmer de Vachel Lindsay" data-description="[In memory of E. S. Frazee, Rush County, Indiana] Into the acres of the newborn state He poured his strength, and plowed his ancient name, And, when the traders followed him, he stood Towering above their furtive souls and tame. That brow w..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black