The odor of the baleful cigarette
Assails us now, where the mild calumet
Around the circle like a censer swung.
The notes of Strauss intoxicate the air,
And dainty feet in cadence twinkle there,
Where in rude strains the warriors’ deeds were sung,
And where the Indian lover’s plaintive flute
Lured to the trysting-place the dusky maid.
Discreetly hidden in the sylvan shade,
The Anglomaniac comes to press his suit,