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:
PITTSBURGH
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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