HER BROTHER'S CIGARETTE.





Like raven's wings her locks of jet,

Her soft eyes touched with fond regret,

Doubt and desire her mind beset,

Fondling her brother's cigarette.



Roses with dewy diamonds set,

Drooped o'er the window's parapet;

With grace she turned a match to get,

And lit her brother's cigarette.



Her puffs of smoky violet

Twined in fantastic silhouette;

She blushed, laughed, coughed a little, yet,

She smoked her brother's cigarette.



Her eyes with briny tears were wet,

Her bang grew limp beneath its net,

Her brow was gemmed with beaded sweat,

And to her bed she went, you bet.



ANON.





HENRY FIELDING. HOW IT ONCE WAS. facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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