From _Cope’s Tobacco Plant_. September 1876. ――――:o:―――― THE CIGAR-SMOKERS. “‘Courage!’ he said, and pointed towards the land; ‘This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.’ In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon.” THE LOTOS EATERS――_Alfred Tennyson_. I. “Land ho!” he cried “I see it now,” says he, “This jolly breeze will fetch us soon to land.” Towards night they got there, time for early tea, A land where tea seemed ever smoking hot to stand. Thick clouds of smoke, by sleepy breezes fanned, Twined, serpent like, o’er all, in curves and twists; The setting sun glared red and angry, close at hand, And from his steaming brow fell off the mists, As falls the sweat from boxers, boxing with their fists. II. A land of smokers! smoking fast were some, Quick, restless puffers wand’ring to and fro; And some, with drowsy eyes and senses dumb, Rolled heavy smoke-clouds very long and slow. The strangers saw the smokers come and go Along the shore, in groups of eight and sometimes ten, From somewhere up above to somewhere down below; Strange, dingy faces, strongly-perfumed men, Smelling as husbands when their wives ask, where they’ve been. III. The sun went out, the moon began to rise, But could not shine; smoke rests on everything And closes o’er the sea; the hum of flies Is heard afar, and vast musquitoes sing, Who buzz and nearer buzz, then ’light and sting; A place where all things always sleepy feel! And round about and in and out, on odorous wing, With faces like an owl, and tail unlike an eel, The red-eyed ghosts of old Tobacco-smokers steal. IV. Great leaves of that disgusting weed they brought, And some chopped fine to chew, and also snuff, Whereof they gave to each, but who once caught The taste, from him the strangely-smelling stuff Took all good sense, nor said he ever, “hold! enough;” The ocean’s voice he heard as tho’ it spake To some one else; his own grew thick and gruff, And half asleep and scarcely half awake, An everlasting puffing, puffing he did make. V. They sat them down upon the dingy shore, Betwixt the moonlight and the moonlight’s ray, And closed their eyes with heavy eyelids o’er, And saw the “old folks’” faces far “at home” away; But dark and dismal seemed the tossing bay, Dismal the hammock’s swing, the boatswain’s cry. Then one man said, “We won’t go home, to-day!” And all at once chimed in, “Agreed say I; Let’s all together not go home till by-and-by!” CHORIC SONG. I.