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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508856" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Smoking Frog</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three men I saw beside a bar,<br>Regarding o'er their bottle,<br>A frog who smoked a rank cigar<br>They'd jammed within its throttle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Pasha frog it must have been<br>So big it as and bloated;<br>And from its lips the nicotine<br>In graceful festoon floated.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And while the trio jeered and joked,<br>As if it quite enjoyed it,<br>Impassively it smoked and smoked,<br>(It could now well avoid it).</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A ring of fire its lips were nigh<br>Yet it seemed all unwitting;<br>It could not spit, like you and I,<br>Who've learned the art of spitting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It did not wink, it did not shrink,<br>As there serene it squatted'<br>Its eyes were clear, it did not fear<br>The fate the Gods allotted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It squatted there with calm sublime,<br>Amid their cruel guying;<br>Grave as a god, and all the time<br>It knew that it was dying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And somehow then it seemed to me<br>These men expectorating,<br>Were infinitely less than he,<br>The dumb thing they were baiting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It seemed to say, despite their jokes:<br>&quot;This is my hour of glory.<br>It isn't every frog that smokes:<br>My name will live in story.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before its nose the smoke arose;<br>The flame grew nigher, nigher;<br>And then I saw its bright eyes close<br>Beside that ring of fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They turned it on its warty back,<br>From off its bloated belly;<br>It legs jerked out, then dangled slack;<br>It quivered like a jelly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then the fellows went away,<br>Contented with their joking;<br>But even as in death it lay,<br>The frog continued smoking.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life's like a lighted fag, thought I;<br>We smoke it stale; then after<br>Death turns our belly to the sky:<br>The Gods must have their laughter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508856" data-title="The Smoking Frog de Robert William Service" data-description="Three men I saw beside a bar,
Regarding o'er their bottle,
A frog who smoked a rank cigar
They'd jammed within its throttle.

A Pasha frog it must have been
So big it as and bloated;
And from its lips the nicotine
In graceful festoon floated.

And..."></div>
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