August

Drowsing o'er my sainted briar, Dreaming dreams of Heart's Desire, Dreaming 'neath the August sun, Thus my meditations run-- What if that great Ember bright Were a monster Pipe alight, Or the glowing from afar Of some Fire-God's cigar? If the Smoker's Peace abide In that sun fire, multiplied By its vastness, I will be Henceforth a devout Parsee.