Till scarcely the letters can you see
That spell the name of Winifred Lee.
But the pictured porcelain, handed down,
Far from the old elm-shaded town,
An heirloom prized, had found retreat
High over a thronged Chicago street—
There, in its corner, fresh and gay
As tho’ it were made but yesterday.
When in the night a terror came,
And the great city was red with flame,