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…