Divine in hookahs, glorious in a pipe. 
  When tipped with amber, mellow, rich and ripe;
  Like other charmers, wooing the caress
  More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
  Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
  Thy naked beauties—­Give me a cigar!
The Island, Canto II.  LORD BYRON.

  Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
    In learned doctors’ spite;
  Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
    And lap me in delight.
To my Cigar.  C. SPRAGUE.

  Such often, like the tube they so admire,
  Important triflers! have more smoke than fire. 
  Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys,
  Unfriendly to society’s chief joys,
  Thy worst effect is banishing for hours
  The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
Conversation.  W. COWPER.

  Tobacco’s a musician,
    And in a pipe delighteth;
  It descends in a close
  Through the organ of the nose. 
    With a relish that inviteth.
Song:  Play of Technogamia.  B. HOLIDAY.

  Some sigh for this and that;
    My wishes don’t go far;
  The world may wag at will,
    So I have my cigar.
The Cigar.  T. HOOD.

  The pipe, with solemn interposing puff,
  Makes half a sentence at a time enough;
  The dozing sages drop the drowsy strain,
  Then pause, and puff—­and speak, and pause again.
Conversation.  W. COWPER.

  To him ’t was meat and drink and physic,
  To see the friendly vapor
  Curl round his midnight taper. 
  And the black fume
  Clothe all the room,
  In clouds as dark as science metaphysic.
Points of Misery.  C.M.  WESTMACOTT.

  Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew,
  A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw;
  The gnomes direct, to every atom just,
  The pungent grains of titillating dust;
  Sudden, with starting tears each eye o’erflows,
  And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.
Rape of the Lock, Canto V.  A. POPE.

TO-MORROW.

  To-morrow yet would reap to-day,
    As we bear blossoms of the dead;
    Earn well the thrifty months, nor wed
  Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay.
Love Thou the Land.  A. TENNYSON.

  In human hearts what bolder thoughts can rise,
  Than man’s presumption on to-morrow’s dawn! 
  Where is to-morrow?
Night Thoughts, Night I.  DR. E. YOUNG.

  To-morrow is a satire on to-day,
  And shows its weakness.
The Old Man’s Repose.  DR. E. YOUNG.

    Nothing that is can pause or stay;
  The moon will wax, the moon will wane,
  The mist and cloud will turn to rain,
  The rain to mist and cloud again,
    To-morrow be to-day.
Keramos.  H.W.  LONGFELLOW.

To-morrow is, ah, whose?
Between Two Worlds.  D.M.  MULOCK CRAIK.