Page 62 - Poetry-Whimsy

The Boston mind of azure hue,
Or the soulful soul from Kalamazoo;

For they all loved Art in a seemly way,
With an earnest soul and a capital A.
* * * * *
Long they worshipped, but no one broke
The sacred stillness, until one spoke—

The Western one from the nameless place,
Who, blushing, said: “What a lovely vace!”

Over three faces a sad smile flew,
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 cried: “ ‘Tis indeed a lovely vaze!”

But brief her unworthy triumph when
The lofty one from the home of Penn,

With the consciousness of two grandpapas,
Exclaims: “It is quite a lovely vahs!”

And glances round with an anxious thrill,
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 the charming vaws!”

Dies erit praegelida
Sinistra quum Bostonia.

— James Jeffrey Roche (Girl’s Own Paper, 1889)

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