By rhyming swain pursued,
        She meets the puling dude,
Whose hopes to win are centered in his pale Platonic plan;
        American in heart,
        She spurns his petty part,
Then, speeds him to the army mess to prove himself a man.

        With tact burned in the bone,
        She stands herself, alone,
The peer of peers of ancient years, for highest functions fit;
        American in head
        Who woos her, she may wed,
If he hath grace, and wit, and worth, and sense, and soul and grit.

Alive, alert and sweet,
        In rounded poise, complete,
Come any day what will or may, she meets the world at par;
        American in soul,
        She brooks no man’s control,
But brings to one a crystal love as stainless as a star.

        Who wins, she weds, retains,
        She lives, she loves, she reigns
Through home and hall, and over all the sovereign of the scene;
        American in dower,
        She knows her native power,
And holds the heart of him she loves, a Woman and a Queen.

THE GOOD SHIP “OHIO.”

Swift o’er the lee when the wind flies free,
  Follows the ship “Ohio,”
With skies o’ercast she bends to the blast,
  Like a billowy bird she can fly, O,
And she’ll leave all behind in a whispering wind
  As soft as a maiden’s sigh, O.
Or when o’er the Lakes the storm-cloud breaks,
  And the waves scoop their murderous hollow,
While the weaker ship to its mooring must slip
  And safe in a harbor wallow,
In the front of the storm she fills her white form,
  And the demons of danger follow.

O for the life ’mid the storm and the strife
  Of sailor and storm and billow! 
Far be my bed from the lubberly dead
  That sleep near the wailing willow,
But give me the grave of the mutinous wave
  With its heaving and whistling pillow. 
Down from the skies look the spectral eyes
  Of our kelpie, sprite and bewailer,
And gathering in crowds by the shivering shrouds,
  They croon while our cheeks grow paler,
And they sing as they sweep o’er the clamorous deep: 
  “We love the hot heart of a sailor!”

THE AMERICAN GIRLS.

Yes!  The land we love
Is a land of pretty girls,
  In grand variety;
With their many colored eyes
And their multi-colored curls,
  They’ll steal thy heart from thee.

If you travel in the North,
One will gleam in glory forth,
  With her blue eyes, O, so blue! 
And her flash of golden hair
Will be flirting in the air,
  While entrancing all the soul in you. 
     Oho!  My Boy!  Oho!

Always for your weal and never for your woe,
Your little heart will gallop on the go,
  And it will not give you rest
  Within your manly breast,
Till you land yourself in toto at her toe. 
     Oho!  My Boy!  Oho!