There as we sat and puff’d the hours away,
And talked and laughed about life’s little day,
And built our golden castles in the air,
And sigh’d to think what transient things they were,
As the light smoke around our heads was thrown,
Amidst its folds a little figure shone,
An elfin sprite, who held within her hand
A small cigar, her sceptre of command.
Her hair above her brow was twisted tight off,
Like a cigar’s end, which you must bite off;