Happy Thanksgiving from The Arkansas Toothpick! While searching for a relevant subject to post on this Thanksgiving season, the Toothpick staff ran across an 1826 article from the Arkansas newspaper. Arkansas was still a territory (10 years prior to statehood). This was no regular article, but rather a poem about our patriots. We could not think of a better piece to to share with the world during this time of giving thanks than the following poem, as we should all give thanks to our patriots, our veterans, our heroes that have made America great:

The Patriot’s Grave

The flowerets are fair, where the ash and the oak
Have twisted their roots in the rifts of the rock;
The flowerets are fair where the mountains are high,
And fair, where the valley is far from the sky;
But, birth to no blossom the earth ever gave,
So far as the flower on the patriot’s grave.

If far by the shore, or the wilds or the shade,
The patriot’s relics be silently laid;
The spirits that moan the wild regions of air,
Heaven’s honey shall gather and scatter there;
The primrose shall bloom and the violet wave
Oh no flower, like that on the patriot’s grave.

And there shall the bard wake his anthem sublime,
And sweet as the hymns in the childhood of time,
Shall tell of the coarse all so brilliantly run,
Of the freeman subdued, and the liberty won;
And the fair maids shall say, and the tale of the brave,
Oh, no flower’s like the flower on the patriot’s grave.

It blooms on the breast which was tender, yet bold,
To freedom aye true, and to love never cold;
It blooms on the bosom, that dauntless the while
Stood forth the warm guardian of the children and isle;
Whose power could repel, and whose influence save;
Oh, no flower’s like the flower on the patriot’s grave.

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