WHILE CIGARETTES TO ASHES TURN
I
"He smokes—and that's enough," says Ma—
"And cigarettes, at that!" says Pa.
"He must not call again," says she—
"He shall not call again!" says he.
They both glare at me as before—
Then quit the room and bang the door.—
While I, their wilful daughter, say,
"I guess I'll love him, anyway!"
II
At twilight, in his room, alone,
His careless feet inertly thrown
Across a chair, my fancy can
But worship this most worthless man!