Sweet is the Rose’s scent—Tobacco’s smell
Is sweeter; wherefore let me charge again.
Old blackened meerschaum, I have loved thee well
From youth, when smoke brought sickness in its train.
Foolish I was: Manillas I disdained,
And cigarettes to Burmahs did prefer,
And even spumed Havana’s fragrant joy;
But now my mind is pained,
In that my smoking days I did defer,
Nor knew this pleasure when I was a boy.
Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936)