| Robert Graves (1895–1985). Fairies and Fusiliers. 1918. |
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| 34. Smoke-Rings |
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BOY
MOST venerable and learned sir, | |
| Tall and true Philosopher, | |
| These rings of smoke you blow all day | |
| With such deep thought, what sense have they? | |
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PHILOSOPHER
Small friend, with prayer and meditation | 5 |
| I make an image of Creation. | |
| And if your mind is working nimble | |
| Straightway you’ll recognize a symbol | |
| Of the endless and eternal ring | |
| Of God, who girdles everything— | 10 |
| God, who in His own form and plan | |
| Moulds the fugitive life of man. | |
| These vaporous toys you watch me make, | |
| That shoot ahead, pause, turn and break— | |
| Some glide far out like sailing ships, | 15 |
| Some weak ones fail me at my lips. | |
| He who ringed His awe in smoke, | |
| When He led forth His captive folk, | |
| In like manner, East, West, North, and South, | |
| Blows us ring-wise from His mouth. | 20 |
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