His father aptly named him Freeland;
It would come to describe the man
Who settled at foot of Closton Hill.
This babe seemed small to have such will.
But then came 1857.
He started to build his heaven
When he married Adrianna.
Through their sweat they built an empire.
In time, to them were three children born
To strengthen and their home adorn.
They cleared, then all worked the fields, which stretched
Down through the mountain’s fingertips.
There, today some crumbling walls still stand,
Mere remnant of man’s lofty plans,
Of all laid in the land. Cornerstone
Now marks the grave of once proud home.
In time fields were lost, obscured, you see,
As hill reclaimed them, tree-by-tree.
No built thing lasts eternally.
Yet land stays–like the man–still free.
Eric M. Vogt