 | Poems |  |
TO TOBACCO.
Let spleeny mopers fume and fret
Till every pore distils the sweat;
Let Opposition's fostered pet,
The blue-faced Anti,
Condemn thee till his reason get
In Bedlam's shanty—
Till every pore distils the sweat;
Let Opposition's fostered pet,
The blue-faced Anti,
Condemn thee till his reason get
In Bedlam's shanty—
What matters it how much they mock?
I would not give for all their talk
A famous Old Virginia stalk—
The plant so rare!
I 'd sooner take a piece of chalk
To cut my hair!
I would not give for all their talk
A famous Old Virginia stalk—
The plant so rare!
I 'd sooner take a piece of chalk
To cut my hair!
Oh thou much-loved, much-hated weed!
Why first did Nature sow thy seed
Were 't not that man might have the need
Some time to use thee?
Who thinks of this will sure take heed
How he abuse thee.
Why first did Nature sow thy seed
Were 't not that man might have the need
Some time to use thee?
Who thinks of this will sure take heed
How he abuse thee.
To note thy virtues, one and all,—
(The which are neither few nor small)
I 'd have to search and overhaul
Newspaper sheets,
And ransack cupboard, shelf, and wall
For old receipts.
(The which are neither few nor small)
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Newspaper sheets,
And ransack cupboard, shelf, and wall
For old receipts.
To sum thy virtues all en masse,
We'll call thee good, and let thee pass;
Those who would not, may “go to grass
And feed on mullen;”
Excepting, always, bonny lass,
More sick than sullen.
We'll call thee good, and let thee pass;
Those who would not, may “go to grass
And feed on mullen;”
Excepting, always, bonny lass,
More sick than sullen.
I 've heard old chroniclers relate,
In blue-law days in neighbor state
'T was e'en a crime—if not so great
As theft or rape—
To use the weed, at any rate,
In any shape.
In blue-law days in neighbor state
'T was e'en a crime—if not so great
As theft or rape—
To use the weed, at any rate,
In any shape.
Whoever made a pipe to reek;
Whoever stowed within his cheek
The article of which we speak,
Was but a wretch!
And Justice pounced with open beak,
Her prey to catch.
Whoever stowed within his cheek
The article of which we speak,
Was but a wretch!
And Justice pounced with open beak,
Her prey to catch.
Justice!—excuse the muse's lies
When humbly she for pardon cries!
'T was but the serpent in disguise.
We know full well
He oft deceives our simple eyes,
Since Adam fell.
When humbly she for pardon cries!
'T was but the serpent in disguise.
We know full well
He oft deceives our simple eyes,
Since Adam fell.
We 've moderns, now, who doubtless yearn
To have the blue-law days return;
They 'd better be a fishing hern
And wade in ditches;
For who can tell but that they 'd burn
For broomstick witches?
To have the blue-law days return;
They 'd better be a fishing hern
And wade in ditches;
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For broomstick witches?
Here let me pause. My pen I'll wipe
And take instead the fragrant pipe;
A whiff or two and I'll be ripe
For writing more;
The muse has giv'n my hand a gripe,
And ope'd the door.
And take instead the fragrant pipe;
A whiff or two and I'll be ripe
For writing more;
The muse has giv'n my hand a gripe,
And ope'd the door.
Who may not sing, may surely croak;
So here 's with pen a parting stroke—
See, life itself is but a joke,
And so is care!
They'll vanish like tobacco smoke
In empty air.
So here 's with pen a parting stroke—
See, life itself is but a joke,
And so is care!
They'll vanish like tobacco smoke
In empty air.
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