62 POETRY OF SMOKE. 



I've seen the land of all I love 



Fade in the distance dim ; 

 I've watched above the blighted heart. 



Where once proud hope had been ; 

 But I've never known a sorrow 



That could with that compare, 

 When off the blue Canaries 



I smoked my last cigar. 



JOSEPH WARREN FABENS. 



IN WREATHS OF SMOKE. 



IN wreaths of smoke, blown way wardwise, 



Faces of olden days uprise, 

 And in his dreamer's reverie 

 They haunt the smoker's brain, and he 



Breathes for the past regretful sighs. 



Mem'ries of maids, with azure eyes, 

 In dewy dells, 'neath June's soft skies, 

 Faces that more he'll only see 

 In wreaths of smoke. 



Eheu, eheu ! how fast time flies, 

 How youth-time passion droops and dies, 

 And all the countless visions flee ! 

 How worn would all those faces be, 

 Were not they swathed in soft disguise 

 In wreaths of smoke ! 



FRANK NEWTON HOLMAN. 



