A SYMPHONY IN SMOKE.

A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and take her ease, She loves to smoke a cigarette; To dream in silken hammockette, And sing and swing beneath the trees, A pretty, piquant, pouting pet. Her Christian name is Violet; Her eyes are blue as summer skies; She loves to smoke a cigarette. As calm as babe in bassinette, She swingeth in the summer breeze, A pretty, piquant, pouting pet. She ponders o'er a novelette; Her parasol is Japanese; She loves to smoke a cigarette. She loves a fume without a fret; Her frills are white, her frock cérise,— A pretty, pouting, piquant pet. She almost goes to sleep, and yet, Half-lulled by booming honey-bees, She loves to smoke a cigarette. A winsome, clever, cool coquette, Who flouts all Grundian decrees,— pretty, pouting, piquant pet, That loves to smoke a cigarette.