A Song of Smoke.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume I, Issue 7, 1 April 1900, Page 515

A Song of Smoke.

As upward curls the fragrant cloudy vapour, Slow steaming from my pipe bowl to the skies, I would my pen could but transmit to paper The thoughts that in my peaceful bosom rise. I would the suffering world my joy might borrow (That is — at ten per cent, fov thirty days), So might they all have rest, and cease from sorrow, While I enjoyed the proceeds — and the praise. I would that, when a bright young life seems blighted, And sorrow treads close on misfortune's heels, Some Guardian Angel stood, with sweet pipe lighted, To charm away the anguish that he feels. So would the world be bettor, happier, brighter,And mankind to its hard lot more resigned ; While every Angel's task would then be lighter, And sinners once again know peace of mind. Anthony J. Wkbb.