Arthur Guiterman

(1871-1943 / United States)

The Passionate Suburbanite To His Love - Poem by Arthur Guiterman

Commute with me, my Love, and be merry;
How vain in the City to dwell
When apple-trees blow in Dobbs' Ferry
And lilacs adorn New Rochelle!
White Plains is the Garden of Allah
And Pelham's the Pearl of the Sea;
There's bliss in the name of Valhalla-
Oh, fly to the Suburbs with me!

Then won't you commute on my family ticket?
To Westchester County we'll flee.
Delightful Westchester,
What place is sequester!
Oh, won't you commute, Love, with me?

I'll pluck you the earliest crocus
In Orange or Englewood fair;
We'll sport on the meads of Hohokus,
We'll ramble through Cultured Montclair;
We'll rest in Exclusive Tuxedo,
Or Nutley, for artists renowned,
And still shall I carol my credo,
'The Suburbs are Paradise Found.'

Then won't you commute on my family ticket?
Perhaps you prefer New Jersee;
For who could grow weary
Of life on the Erie!
Then won't you commute, Love, with me?

The Isle 'twixt the Sound and the Ocean-
Ah, has it no Message for you?
I cannot but think with emotion
Of Flushing, Jamaica, and Kew,
Of Bayshore of youthful vacations,
Of Little Neck, Great Neck, and Quogue
And all of the other Clam Stations
Including Speonk and Patchogue.

Then come take a trip on my family ticket
Where Long Island breezes blow free.
To live on the Subway
Is surely a dub way,--
Then fly to the Suburbs with me!


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010



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