No choice to-night ’twixt “dry” or “sweet,”
    ’Twixt red or white, ’twixt Rye,—­ah! me—­
  Or Scotch—­and think! we live to see’t—­
    No whispered word, nor massive fee,
    Nor even influenza plea,
  Can raise a bubble; but, as best
    We may, we make our hollow spree: 
  I drink—­in what?—­the Absent Guest.

  ENVOI

  Friends, good is coffee, good is tea,
    And water has a charm unguessed—­
  And yet—­that brave old deity! 
    I drink—­in tears—­the Absent Guest.

  TOBACCO NEXT

  They took away your drink from you,
    The kind old humanizing glass;
  Soon they will take tobacco too,
    And next they’ll take our demi-tasse. 
    Don’t say, “The bill will never pass,”
  Nor this my warning word disdain;
    You said it once, you silly ass—­
  Don’t make the same mistake again.

  We know them now, the bloodless crew,
    We know them all too well, alas! 
  There’s nothing that they wouldn’t do
    To make the world a Bible class;
    Though against bottled beer or Bass
  I search the sacred text in vain
    To find a whisper—­by the Mass! 
  Don’t make the same mistake again.

  Beware these legislators blue,
    Pouring their moral poison-gas
  On all the joys our fathers knew;
    The very flowers in the grass
    Are safe no more, and, lad and lass,
  ’Ware the old birch-rod and the cane! 
    Here comes our modern Hudibras!—­
  Don’t make the same mistake again.

  ENVOI

  Prince, vanished is the rail of brass,
    So mark me well and my refrain—­
  Tobacco next! you silly ass,
    Don’t make the same mistake again.

  BALLADE OF THE PAID PURITAN

  In vain with whip and knotted cord
    The hirelings of hypocrisy
  Would make us comely for the Lord: 
    Think ye God works through such as ye—­
    Paid Puritan, plump Pharisee,
  And lobbyist fingering his fat bill,
    Reeking of rum and bribery: 
  God needs not you to work His will.

  We know you whom you serve, abhorred
    Traducers of true piety,
  What tarnished gold is your reward
    In Washington and Albany;
    ’Tis not from God you take your fee,
  Another’s purpose to fulfil,
    You that are God’s worst enemy: 
  God needs not you to work His will.

  Not by the money-changing horde,
    Base traders in the sanctuary,
  Nor by fanatic fire and sword,
    Shall man grow as God wills him be;
    In his own heart a voice hath he
  That whispers to him small and still;
    God gives him eyes His good to see: 
  God needs not you to work His will.

  ENVOI

  Dear Prince, a sinner’s honesty
    Is more to God, much nearer still,
  Than the bribed hypocritic knee: 
    God needs not you to work His will.