The Great American Novel

The great American novel has never yet been writ,

Although the publishers each day are fighting hard for it,

The critics tell what it should be, just how it should be done,

And still the days go rushing by and ‘tis produced by none.

The great American novel, that’s the thing we most desire;

The great American novel, a subject to inspire!

What ails our modern novelists? O for another Cobb,

Or Scott or Dickens or the like to rise and do the job!

It must abound in politics, this novel of renown,

And take in North, South, East and West, and city, burg and town;

Cape Cod must have its chapter there, Palm Beach and ‘Frisco Bay,

The stockyards of Chicago, Wall Street and old Broadway.

The cowboy, too, must do his strut, the men who dig for coal;

The Standard Oil and Andrew C. must figure in the role.

The rich the poor, the bond the free, all races, creeds and kinds

Must enter in this mighty book we all have in our minds.

The great American novel that shall paint us as we are;

From old stagecoach to Pullman train and then the touring car.

The great American novel, something dashing, strong and new,

Embodying Alaska, Panama and Kalamazoo;

Including strikes and riots, airships, submarines and all

The questions and inventions that remembrance can recall.

Who will write this wondrous novel? We have waited long for it,

The great American novel which has never yet been writ.

Oct. 6, ‘05