To the American Hen

To the American Hen
581.2

[Poets may sing to the glory of the
eagle, but the American hen that can
equal the production of all our mines is
entitled to a tribute for her industry.]

Oh, let the country pin
Its faith faith to you, O Hen,
And it will surely win
The scads that glad all men.
Yon beat the fruitful mine
When on a record lay,
And so your fame must shing
Forever and a day.
All patriots may dream,
While looking on your hackle
With joy supreme;
The eagle’s scream
Is beaten by your cackle.

The painter’ll paint you soon
In purple, gold and green
Against a misty moon
Upon a lacquered screen:
And laureled bards will join
Until the blue dome ring.
That you upon the coin.
May yet outspread your wing.
O Hen. len, you lay by steam.
And we when the joy you tackle
All shout abeam
The eagle’s scream Is beaten by your cáckle.

Oh. bird of boundless joy
And cashful industry.
You make all care a toy
That’s beautiful to see.
Ob. long enjoy your day
That is a day of gold!
Lay on, O Hen, and may
You ne’er be laid out cold.
With wondrous vim agleam
You make all song and quackle
Like six cents seem—
The eagle’s scream
Is beaten by your cackle.
—Puck.