| |
| FROM the maddening crowd they stand apart, | |
| The maidens four and the Work of Art; | |
| |
| And none might tell from sight alone | |
| In which had culture ripest grown,— | |
| |
| The Gotham Millions fair to see, | 5 |
| The Philadelphia Pedigree, | |
| |
| The Boston Mind of azure hue, | |
| Or the soulful Soul from Kalamazoo,— | |
| |
| For all loved Art in a seemly way, | |
| With an earnest soul and a capital A. * * * * * | 10 |
| Long they worshipped; but no one broke | |
| The sacred stillness, until up spoke | |
| |
| The Western one from the nameless place, | |
| Who blushingly said: “What a lovely vace!” | |
| |
| Over three faces a sad smile flew, | 15 |
| And they edged away from Kalamazoo. | |
| |
| But Gotham’s haughty soul was stirred | |
| To crush the stranger with one small word | |
| |
| Deftly hiding reproof in praise, | |
| She cries: “’T is, indeed, a lovely vaze!” | 20 |
| |
| But brief her unworthy triumph when | |
| The lofty one from the home of Penn, | |
| |
| With the consciousness of two grand papas, | |
| Exclaims: “It is quite a lovely vahs!” | |
| |
| And glances round with an anxious thrill, | 25 |
| Awaiting the word of Beacon Hill. | |
| |
| But the Boston maid smiles courteouslee, | |
| And gently murmurs: “Oh pardon me! | |
| |
| “I did not catch your remark, because | |
| I was so entranced with that charming vaws!” | 30 |
| |
| Dies erit prægelida | |
| Sinistra quum Bostonia. | |
| |
