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Show THE VASE. From the madding crowd they stand apart, The maidens four and the Work of Art; And none might tell from sight alone In which had culture ripest grown The Gotham millions fair to see, The Philadelphia Pedigree, The Boston Mind of azure hue, Or the Soulful Soul of Kalamazoo; For all loved Art in a seemly way, With an earnest soul and a capital A. Long they worshipped; but no one broke. The secred stillness, until up spoke The Western one from the nameless place, Who, blushing, said, "What a lovely vase!" 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, " 'Tis, indeed, a lovely vaze!" But brief her unworthy triumph, when |