For all loved Art in a seemly way,
With an earnest soul and a capital A.
Long they worshiped; but no one broke
The sacred stillness, until up spoke
The Western one from the nameless place,
Who, blushing, said, “What a lovely vase!”
Over three faces a sad smile flew,
And they edged away from Kalamazoo.
But Gotham’s haughty soul was stirred