An early explorer, the priest Marquette,
On the banks of an island river met
    Some red men of lofty bearing;

‘Twas said of those people again and again,
"They are the Illini -- they are The Men!
    The Able Ones, and the Daring!

So the Illini to the grandest and best
Of the group of states in the Middle West
    The name of their tribe awarded;

And Illinois, truley, has honored the name,
Increasing and ever extending her fame,
    As History has recorded.

In that broad Prairieland, for a hundred years
The sound of the tread of the pioneers
    Was slowly though steadily rising;

But after her crucial struggle was passed,
And in statehood’s mould she was solidly cast,
    Her growth was indeed surprising.

Her primitive settlers were sturdy of stock,
Some tracing their lineage back to The Rock
    Where the Plymouth Pilgrims landed,

With others from many lands under the sun;
Yet none of them boasted grand titles, and none
    The favor of Fortune commanded.

But each held high purpose to better his lot.
Believing a homestead the likeliest spot
    To rustle for raiment and rations;

These men were so plucky, unyielding and true,
That I am persuaded that only a few
    Went back to their wives’ relations.

As late as the thirties Chicago was small--
The map scarcely gave her a location at all,
    Her name was infrequently uttered;

But down on the lakeside a wind-tattered rag,
That served as Fort Dearborn’s garrison flag
    In the prairie breezes fluttered.

But once -- since her soldiers were slain at the Fort
By Black Hawk’s red demons, has she been the sport
    Or prey of a possible Nemesis --

Her one great disaster, remembered till now.
When Mrs. O’Leary’s intractable cow
    Kicked over a lamp on the premises.

But even from this she recovered anon,
With a force irresistible hastening on--
    Not pausing to mourn her bereavement;

Though battered and blackened and scourged and destroyed,
She quickly rebuilt in the desolate void
    With better and nobler achievement.

No prophet forecasted how great was to be
This wonderful town by the fresh water sea --
    This Queen of the Lakes and the Prairies;

How more than a score of cross continent lines
Would bring her the products of mountains and mines,
    The wealth of the farms and the dairies.

The spoils of pine forests were laid at her feet
By rivers and railroads -- a lake-sailing fleet
    Every day at her wharves rode at anchor;

While the Greater Northwest into opulence grew
Then outspoke Chicago: "Good people go to --
    I’m willing to serve as your banker.

"Concerning your crops -- I will warehouse them all,
Make changes for dockage and storage so small
    That yearly you’ll wish them repeated.

Your prime, fattened stock I will slaughter and pack,
Dispose of it well and the proceeds sent back.
    Refilling your coffers depleted."

Her "tourists, commercial," are sure to invade
All places on earth they can work for the Trade --
    Each carries a smile that is cheery;

If even one dealer had lived at the Pole
Some "drummer" had beat Dr. Cook to the goal,
    And punctured the pretense of Peary.

That the state in her policies, mainly is wise
I think is a truism no one denies,
    And even an estimate cursory

Will show, I believe that assuredly she --
Whatever the sums of her follies may be --
    Of greatness has long been the nursery.

Her roll of Immortals your challenge awaits --
There’s Lincoln, and Dougles, and Logan, and Yates,
    And the grim, silent man from Galena;

Then Barker, and Palmer, and Trumbull and Hay, --
None better acquitted themselves in their day.
    Nor won a grander arena.

The "plain, common people" were loyal and true,
And alive and alert in the Prairie state too,
    When War’s clanging tocsin resounded;

From the North down to Cairo, then back to Dunleith,
They acted like bull-dogs displaying their teeth,
    And confident courage abounded.

War orators flourished -- two hundred, or less,
How often heard them their arguments press
    With a force that was potent to charm me;

As it did many others; and these are the fruits:
Two hundred and fifty-nine thousand recruits
    Were sent by the state to the army.

In our heart’s "Hall of Fame" many heroes have place,
And eminent women the pedestals grace --
    They are part of the commonwealth’s glory;

For the men who delight on her greatness to dwell
Will name Francis Williard, Jane Addams as well,
    And others, to round out the story.

Her far-scattered children still cherish, elate.
Their birthright of pride in this prosperous state--
    Most prodigal she of all givers --

Unceasing her largess, as broad and as free
As the great Mississippi that flows to the sea,
    And all her magnificent rivers.

How fair are her vistas, how clear are her streams!
What glories of woodland, where Summertime dreams
    In recesses cloistered and shady;

Her green, rolling prairies, how lovely and wide,
Phophetic of harvests, so seldom denied,
    And rich as the gems of a lady!

Completing the circle, it happens again
We come to the people -- "The Men, The Men."
    Whose history reads like a fable;

For the Illini -- those of a later breed --
Have proven their title by word and deed;
    "The Daring Ones, and the Able."