I ROWED her out on the broad bright sea, Till the land lay purple upon our lee. The heavens were trying the waves to outshine, With never a cloud to the far sea-line. On the reefs the billows in kisses broke— But oh, I was dying for one small smoke. She spoke of the gulls and the waters green— But what is nature to Nicotine? She spoke of the tides, and the Triton myth; And said Jones was engaged to the blonde Miss Smith. She spoke of her liking lemon on clams; And Euclid, and parallelograms. For her face was fair and her eyes were brown, And she was a girl from Boston town. And I rowed and thought—but I never said— "Does Havana tobacco trouble your head?" She talked of algæ—she talked of sand— And I thought: "Tobacco you cannot stand." She talked of the ocean-steamer's speed— And I yearned for a whiff of the wicked weed. And at last I spoke, between fright and fret: "Would you mind if I smoked a cigarette?" She dropped her eyes on the ocean's blue, And said: "Would you mind if I smoked too?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON SEEING THE ELGIN MARBLES by JOHN KEATS THE END OF IT by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE BARD'S ANNUAL DEFIANCE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE DEAD CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) OCTOBER TWILIGHT by VINCENT GODFREY BURNS DAWN DECORATIONS by EDITH HILL CARNES |