MY cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and sorrow; The magic wand that far beyond To-day can conjure up to-morrow. Like love's desire, thy crown of fire So softly with the twilight blending, And ah! meseems, a poet's dreams Are in thy wreaths of smoke ascending. My cigarette! Can I forget How Kate and I, in sunny weather, Sat in the shade the elm-tree made And rolled the fragrant weed together? I at her side beatified, To hold and guide her fingers willing; She rolling slow the paper's snow, Putting my heart in with the filling. My cigarette! I see her yet, The white smoke from her red lips curling, Her dreaming eyes, her soft replies, Her gentle sighs, her laughter purling! Ah, dainty roll, whose parting soul Ebbs out in many a snowy billow, I, too, would burn if I might earn Upon her lips so soft a pillow! Ah, cigarette! The gay coquette Has long forgot the flames she lighted, And you and I unthinking by Alike are thrown, alike are slighted. The darkness gathers fast without, A rain-drop on my window plashes; My cigarette and heart are out, And nought is left me but the ashes. |