What's the use of splendid views for those that cannot see?
What's the use of freedom's flag to folks that aren't free?
What's the use of legs to those who have no wish to walk?
What's the use of languages to those who cannot talk?
What's the use of kings and queens that haven't any throne?
What's the use of having pains unless you're going to groan?
What's the use of anything, however grand and good,
That doesn't ever, ever work the way it really should?"
"Humph!" panted the Bellows, "you don't call that bright, do you?"
"I do, indeed," said the Poker. "And I call it bright because I know it's bright. It is so bright that not a magazine in all the world dare print it, because they'd never be able to do as well again, and people would say the magazine wasn't as good as it used to be."
"What nonsense," retorted the Bellows. "Why, I could blow a mile of poetry like that in ten minutes:
What's the use of churches big that haven't any steeples?
What's the use of nations great that haven't any peoples?
What's the use of oceans grand that haven't any beaches?
What's the use of Delawares that haven't any peaches?
What's the use—"