Explore "Smoke-Rings" by Robert Graves on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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?
PHILOSOPHER / Small friend, with prayer and meditation / 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 -- / 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, / 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.