A T O A S T

Illustration by Krieghoff.

I drink to the Pipe, which, at eventide,

Is dearer to me than a blushing bride.

As its perfumed clouds float on the air,

They curl into myriad visions rare:

Pictures of comrades of long ago

I see in the shadows that come and go;

And the long-lost love of my boyhood seems

To be kissed into life by my Pipe-o’-dreams.