If Indian braves may still up there
On merry scalpings go,
And buried Britons rise again
With arrow and with bow,
May not the Smoker hope to take
His "cutty" from below?
So let us trust; and when at length
You lay me 'neath the yew,
Forget not, O my friends, I pray,
Pipes and tobacco too!
RICHARD LE GALLIENNE.
SWEET SMOKING PIPE.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove,
Companion still of my retreat,
Thou dost my gloomy thoughts remove,
And purge my brain with gentle heat.
Tobacco, charmer of my mind,
When, like the meteor's transient gleam.
Thy substance gone to air I find,
I think, alas, my life's the same!
What else but lighted dust am I?
Then shew'st me what my fate will be;
And when thy sinking ashes die,
I learn that I must end like thee.
ANON.
CIGARETTE RINGS.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night;
I'm too sleepy to read and too lazy to write;
So I'll watch the blue rings, as they eddy and twirl,
And in gossamer wreathings coquettishly curl.
In the stillness of night and the sparseness of chimes
There's a fleetness in fancy, a frolic in rhymes;
There's a world of romance that persistently clings
To the azurine curving of Cigarette Rings!
What a picture comes back from the passed-away times!
They are lounging once more 'neath the sweet-scented limes;
See how closely he watches the Queen of Coquettes,
As her white hands roll deftly those small cigarettes!
He believes in her smiles and puts faith in her sighs
While he's dazzled by light from her fathomless eyes.
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