A SYMPHONY IN SMOKE.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet,
Who likes to muse and take her ease,
She loves to smoke a cigarette;
To dream in silken hammockette,
And sing and swing beneath the trees,
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet.
Her Christian name is Violet;
Her eyes are blue as summer skies;
She loves to smoke a cigarette.
As calm as babe in bassinette,
She swingeth in the summer breeze,
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet.
She ponders o'er a novelette;
Her parasol is Japanese;
She loves to smoke a cigarette.
She loves a fume without a fret;
Her frills are white, her frock cérise,—
A pretty, pouting, piquant pet.
She almost goes to sleep, and yet,
Half-lulled by booming honey-bees,
She loves to smoke a cigarette.
A winsome, clever, cool coquette,
Who flouts all Grundian decrees,—
pretty, pouting, piquant pet,
That loves to smoke a cigarette.
Harper's Bazaar.