The Boston Mind of azure hue, Or the soulful Soul from Kalamazoo,—
For all loved Art in a seemly way, With an earnest soul and a capital A.
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Long they worshipped; but no one broke The sacred stillness, until up spoke
The Western one from the nameless place, Who blushingly 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 cries: "'T is, indeed, a lovely vaze!"
But brief her unworthy triumph when The lofty one from the home of Penn,
With the consciousness of two grand papas, Exclaims: "It is quite a lovely vahs!"
And glances round with an anxious thrill, Awaiting the word of Beacon Hill.