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| QUALITY HILL! It looked down on the town | |
| With a tinge of contempt, a suspicion of frown; | |
| And why should it not, if you’ll please to declare, | |
| With the atmosphere such a superior air, | |
| And the earth to be trod, any hour in the day, | 5 |
| Of a texture more fine than mere commonplace clay? | |
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| Quality Hill! As you clambered the slope, | |
| With each step of ascent (to make use of a trope) | |
| An attar pervasive, by some subtle stealth, | |
| Began to steal out from the roses of Wealth; | 10 |
| And wherever you fared, you beheld on each side | |
| A presence arrayed in the trappings of Pride. | |
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| Quality Hill! There the blood it ran blue; | |
| There was more than one crest; there were quarterings, too. | |
| Yet small quarter they gave to the stranger that came, | 15 |
| Those who bowed before Fashion, that debonair dame, | |
| Unless the new-comer crept into the fold | |
| Through the magical sign of the Goddess of Gold! | |
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| Quality Hill! There was satin and silk | |
| For “my lady,” and dresses as snowy as milk; | 20 |
| There was poise, there was pose; there was plenty of art, | |
| But who dare assert that beneath it was heart? | |
| And envy and malice? But, stay! Could aught ill | |
| (God’s grace!) have a place upon Quality Hill? | |
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| Quality Hill! Lo! it nourishes still! | 25 |
| And who can deny that forever it will? | |
| A blending of breeding with puff and with plume; | |
| A strange sort of mixture of rick and mushroom. | |
| Some amble, some scramble, (some gamble!) to fill | |
| The motley and medley of Quality Hill. | 30 |
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