@3We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he, from his meerschaum's glossy brown, With a ring of smoke made his king a crown. The cherry stem, with its amber tip, Thoughtfully rested on his lip, As the goblet's rim from which heroes sip. And, looking out through the early green He called on his patron saint, I ween,— That misty maiden, Saint Nicotine@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO TOBACCO by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY RHAPSODY ON A WINDY NIGHT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE MAN WITH THE HOE by EDWIN MARKHAM EPIPSYCHIDION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE HYMNARY: 324. WHITSUNTIDE by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR COMPLAINS, BEING HIND'RED THE SIGHT OF HIS NYMPH by PHILIP AYRES |