O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,  
Give me in due time, I beseech you, a little tobacco-shop,  
With the little bright boxes  
           piled up neatly upon the shelves  
And the loose fragrant cavendish  
           and the shag,  
And the bright Virginia  
           loose under the bright glass cases,  
And a pair of scales not too greasy,  
And the whores dropping in for a word or two in passing,  
For a flip word, and to tidy their hair a bit.  
    
O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,
Lend me a little tobacco-shop,
           or install me in any profession
Save this damn’d profession of writing,
           where one needs one’s brains all the time.