Pittsburgh, a poem 

I've just run across the delightful site, The Art of Google Books (thanks again to the indispensable La Boîte Verte). Here I find the following sonnet on the subject of my home town:



 Transcribed for the vision-impaired:


I saw it from a hilltop one midnight

A wizard's cauldron, wherein men transmute

Base metals into gold, man into brute.

The rose of fire that blossomed in my sight

Is but a furnace baring heart of white,

Ere yielding to its masters what tribute!

A thousand hasting engines

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