CHICAGO sounds rough to the maker of verse; One comfort we have -- Cincinnati sounds worse; If we only were licensed to say Chicago! But Worcester and Webster won't let us, you know. No matter, we songsters must sing as we can; We can make some nice couplets with Lake Michigan, And what more resembles a nightingale's voice, Than the oily trisyllable, sweet Illinois? Your waters are fresh, while our harbor is salt, But we know you can't help it -- it isn't your fault; Our city is old and your city is new, But the railroad men tell us we're greener than you. You have seen our gilt dome, and no doubt you've been told That the orbs of the universe round it are rolled; But I'll own it to you, and I ought to know best, That this isn't quite true of all stars of the West. You'll go to Mount Auburn, -- we'll show you the track, -- And can stay there, -- unless you prefer to come back; And Bunker's tall shaft you can climb if you will, But you'll puff like a paragraph praising a pill. You must see -- but you have seen -- our old Faneuil Hall, Our churches, our school-rooms, our sample-rooms, all; And, perhaps, though the idiots must have their jokes, You have found our good people much like other folks. There are cities by rivers, by lakes, and by seas, Each as full of itself as a cheese-mite of cheese; And a city will brag as a game-cock will crow: Don't your cockerels at home -- just a little, you know? But we'll crow for you now -- here's a health to the boys, Men, maidens, and matrons of fair Illinois, And the rainbow of friendship that arches its span From the green of the sea to the blue Michigan! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG, FR. ERNEST MALTRAVERS by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 52 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE SECOND MOTHERHOOD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS OF A WINNOWER OF WHEAT TO THE WINDS by JOACHIM DU BELLAY LOVE IN EXILE: L'ENVOI by MATHILDE BLIND |