POETRY OF SMOKE. 



You are romping with the children ; 



You are smiling through your tears ; 

 You have fought and whipped the bully 



You are eight and he is ten. 

 Oh ! how rapidly we travel 



You are now a boy again. 



You approach the open doorway, 



And before the old armchair 

 You will stop and kiss the grandma, 



You will smooth the thin white hair j 

 You will read the open Bible, 



For the lamp is lit, you see. 

 It is now your hour for bedtime 



And you kneel at mother's knee. 



Still you linger at the hearthstone ; 



You are loath to leave the place ; 

 When an apple cut's in progress 



You must wait and dance with Grace. 

 What's the matter with the music ? 



Only this : the pipe is broke v 

 And a thousand pleasant fancies 



Vanish promptly with the smoke. 



A. B. VAN FLEET. 



KNICKERBOCKER. 



SHADE of Herrick, Muse of Locker, 

 Help me sing of Knickerbocker ! 

 Boughton, had you bid me chant 

 Hymns to Peter Stuy vesant. 



