O the music of thy name,
Peoria!
When with May thy meadows flame,
When the wild crab woos the bees
To its bowers, and Judas-trees
Tint thy budding woods with red;
When from all thy groves and leas,
As if grief and care were dead,
And life and joy forever wed,
Bluebirds, thrushes, orioles,
In rapturous song pour forth their souls;
Then I know 't was first in May
Thy Indian lovers came this way,
And, tranced with bloom and song of bird,
Coined thee this melodious word,—
Sweet as far-off bugle note
Fall the syllables and float—
Peoria!