Tobacco smoke drifts up to the dim ceiling
From half a dozen pipes and cigarettes,
Curling in endless shapes, in blue rings wheeling,
As formless as our talk. Phil, drawling, bets
Cornell will win the relay in a walk,
While Bob and Mac discuss the Giants’ chances;
Deep in a morris-chair, Bill scowls at ‘Falk’,
John gives large views about the last few dances.
And so it goes – an idle speech and aimless,
A few chance phrases; yet I see behind
The empty words the gleam of a beauty tameless,
Friendship and peace and fire to strike men blind,
Till the whole world seems small and bright to hold –
Of all our youth this hour is pure gold.
(Stephen Vincent Benet)
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Based on Topics: Friendship Poems, Beauty Poems, Gold Poems, Dancing Poems, Chance Poems, Idleness PoemsBased on Keywords: bets, relay, drawling, cornell, morris-chair, falk