We, too, indulge in our cigarette.
The skeletonizing power I sing,
Of the mind-paralyzing, perfidious thing.
Shades of the past, that linger yet!
Is there no land where laws beset
Those who lay sense aside,
Puffing slow suicide,
Into themselves from a cigarette?
Thither I’d fly, and for ever sing
The praise of the land that is free from the thing.