ent and came, and brought no "weed,"
And men forgot their suppers, in the dread
Of the dire desolation; and all tongues
Were tingling with the taste of empty pipes;
And they did live all wretched; old hay bands,
And street-door mats, and clover brown and dry;
Carpets, rope-yarn, and such things as men sell,
Were burnt for 'bacca; haystacks were consumed,
And men were gathered round each blazing mass,
To have another makeshift sniff.
Happy were those who smoked, with smould'ring logs,
The harmless Yarmouth bloater after death--
Another pipe not all the world contain'd;
The furze was set on fire, but, hour by hour,
The stock diminish'd; all the prickly points
Quivered to death, and soon it all was gone.
The lips of men by the expiring stuff
Drew in and out, and all the world had fits.
The cinders fell upon them; some sprang up,
And blew their noses loud, and some did stand
Upon their heads, and sway'd despairing feet;
And others madly up and down the world
With "two-pence" hurried, shouting out for "Shag;"
And wink'd and blink'd at th' unclouded sky,
The "Anti's" smokeless banner--then again
Flung all their halfpence down into the dust,
And chewed their tainted pockets; snuffers wept,
And, flatt'ning noses on the dreary ground,
Inhaled the useless dust; the biggest "rough"
Came mild, tobacco-begging; p'licement came,
And mix'd themselves among the multitude,
"Run in" forgotten; uniforms were chew'd,
And teeth which for a moment had had rest,
Did move themselves again; old beaver hats
Fetch'd little fortunes; they were torn in bits,
And smok'd or chew'd at will; no bits were left.
All earth was but one thought, and that was smoke,
Immediate and glorious; and a pang
Of horror came at intervals, and men
Cried; and the boys were restless as themselves,
Till by degrees their stockings were devour'd;
E'en pipes were dropp'd despairing--all, save one,
One man was faithful to his pipe, and kept
Despair and deeper misery at bay,
By seeking ever for a "topper," dropped
From some spurned pipe, but that he could not find;
So, with a piteous and perpetual glare,
And a quick dissolute word, sucking the pipe,
Which answer'd never with a whiff, he slept;
The crowd dispersed by slow degrees, but two
Of all the dreary company remain'd,
And they kept 'bacca shops; they sat upon
The scanted lid of a tobacco tub,
Wherein w