Into loam the sand is melted, And the blue-grass takes the loam, Round about the prairie home ; And the locomotives roam Over landscapes iron-belted.
63 Sturdy are the Saxon faces, As they move along in line ; Bright the rolling-cutters shine, Charging up the State's incline, As an army storms a glacis.  Into loam the sand is melted, And the blue-grass takes the loam, Round about the prairie home ; And the locomotives roam Over landscapes iron-belted.  Cities grow where stunted birches Hugged the shallow water-line ; And the deepening rivers twine Past the factory and mine, Orchard slopes and schools and churches.