Sweet eglantine doth her garlands twine
For the blithe hours as they run,
And balmily sighs the meadow-sweet,
That is all in love with the sun,
Whilst new-mown hay o'er the hedgerows gay
Flings odorous airs afar;
Yet sweeter than these on the passing breeze
Is the scent of a prime cigar.
When all the beauties of Flora's court
Smile on the gay parterre,
What glorious color, what exquisite form,
And dainty scents are there!
They bask in the beam, and bend by the stream,
Like beautiful nymphs at play,
Holding dew-pearls up in each nectar cup
To the glorious God of Day.
Oh, their lives are sweet, but all too brief,
And death doth their sweetness mar;
But fragrance fine is forever thine,
My well-beloved cigar!
C.
GEORDIE TO HIS TOBACCO-PIPE.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend,
Whom I have smoked these fourteen years and more,
My best companion, faithful to the end,
Faithful to death through all thy fiery core,
How shall I sing thy praises, or proclaim
The generous virtues which I've found in thee?
I know thou carest not a whit for fame,
And hast no thought but how to comfort me,
And serve my needs, and humor every mood;
But love and friendship do my heart constrain
To give thee all I can for much of good
Which thou hast rendered me in joy and pain.
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