|Arthur Franklin Mapes, a lifetime resident of Kendallville, Indiana, worked 33 years as a machinist
at Flint and Walling Mfg. Co.. His
hobby was poetry and he wrote about the things he knew, the town and state he loved, and his humble beginnings. Other
poems include Our Town, which he wrote for the 1963 Kendallville Centennial, and Blacklegs, about
Kendallville's "Sassafras John Bates".|
BY Arthur Franklin Mapes
God crowned her hills with beauty, Gave her lakes and winding streams, Then He edged them all with woodlands As the setting for our dreams. Lovely are her moonlit rivers, Shadowed by the sycamores, Where the fragrant winds of Summer Play along the willowed shores. I must roam those wooded hillsides, I must heed the native call, For a pagan voice within me Seems to answer to it all. I must walk where squirrels scamper Down a rustic old rail fence, Where a choir of birds is singing In the woodland . . . green and dense. I must learn more of my homeland For it's paradise to me, There's no haven quite as peaceful, There's no place I'd rather be. Indiana . . . is a garden Where the seeds of peace have grown, Where each tree, and vine, and flower Has a beauty . . . all its own. Lovely are the fields and meadows, That reach out to hills that rise Where the dreamy Wabash River Wanders on . . . through paradise.
~Arthur Franklin Mapes