O CITY that is not a city, unworthy the prefix Atlantic,

Forlornest of watering-places, and thoroughly Philadelphian!

In thy despite I sing, with a bitter and deep detestation—

A detestation born of a direful and dinnerless evening,

Spent in thy precincts unhallowed—an evening, I trust, may recur not.

Never till then did I know what was meant by the word God-forsaken:

Thou its betokening hast taught me, being the chiefest example.

Thou art the scorned of the gods; thy sand from their sandals is shaken;

Thee have they left in their wrath to thy uninteresting extensiveness,

Barren, and bleak, and big; a wild aggregation of barracks,