Believe me still, as I have ever been my weakness, tree of Ide steadfast liver of holy leberty; thes with that ball manthud ward, спине by ensued The willey blood redeemed but out her exives; by Each fitter broken, but my John G. Whitter Eat the simplest food, Drink the pure, cold water, Then you will be well, Or at least you oughter. ANONYMOUS. A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. MAY the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammering verse, If I can a passage see In this word-perplexity, Or a fit expression find, Or a language to my mind (Still the phrase is wide or scant), To take leave of thee, great plant! Or in any terms relate Half my love, or half my hate; For I hate, yet love, thee so, A constrained hyperbole, Sooty retainer to the vine! And, for thy pernicious sake, Than reclaiméd lovers take 'Gainst women! Thou thy siege dost lay Thou in such a cloud dost bind us That our worst foes cannot find us, And ill fortune, that would thwart us, Shoots at rovers, shooting at us; While each man, through thy heightening steam, Does like a smoking Etna seem; And all about us does express Brother of Bacchus, later born! Or judge of thee meant: only thou Scent to match thy rich perfume Stinkingest of the stinking kind! Nay, rather, Plant divine, of rarest virtue ! Irony all, and feigned abuse, Or, as men, constrained to part With what's nearest to their heart, While their sorrow's at the height Lose discrimination quite, And their hasty wrath let fall, To appease their frantic gall, On the darling thing, whatever, Whence they feel it death to sever, Though it be, as they, perforce, Guiltless of the sad divorce. For I must (nor let it grieve thee, Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee. For thy sake, tobacco, I Would do anything but die, And but seek to extend my days Long enough to sing thy praise. A king's consort is a queen Of thy favors, I may catch Some collateral sweets, and snatch Like glances from a neighbor's wife; And the suburbs of thy graces; And in thy borders take delight, An unconquered Canaanite. CHARLES LAMB. GO, FEEL WHAT I HAVE FELT. [By a young lady who was told that she was a monomaniac in her hatred of alcoholic liquors.] Go, feel what I have felt, Go, bear what I have borne ; Go, weep as I have wept O'er a loved father's fall; Go, kneel as I have knelt ; Implore, beseech, and pray, Go, stand where I have stood, Go, catch his wandering glance, and see Go, hear what I have heard, As memory's feeling fount hath stirred, Go to my mother's side, And her crushed spirit cheer; Thine own deep anguish hide, Wipe from her cheek the tear; Mark her dimmed eye, her furrowed brow, The gray that streaks her dark hair now, The toil-worn frame, the trembling limb, And trace the ruin back to him Whose plighted faith, in early youth, Promised eternal love and truth, But who, forsworn, hath yielded up This promise to the deadly cup, And led her down from love and light, From all that made her pathway bright, WE are two travellers, Roger and I. - Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank - and starved together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you! A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, (This out-door business is bad for the strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings! No, thank ye, sir, I never drink; I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect (Here's to you, sir !) even of my dog. But he sticks by through thick and thin; And this old coat, with its empty pockets, And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. |