To Save Him From His Sins

A pleasant wind doth call your brother's name,

But clouds and flames are all he can proclaim,

A wizard's trick, a chemist's mix,

Are the absurdity of this fix.

Hollow are his feverish pleas,

His lonesome misery decrees,

One bite of the tongue and his cigar runs,

It took only you to end all his shuns.


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