POETRY OF SMOKE. 



For thy sake, Tobacco, I 

 Would do anything but die, 

 And but seek to extend my days 

 Long enough to sing thy praise. 



But as she who once hath been 



A king's consort is a queen 



Ever after, nor will bate 



Any tittle of her state 



Though a widow, or divorced, 



So I from my converse forced. 



The old name and style retain, 



A right Katherine of Spain ; 



And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys 



Of the blest Tobacco Boys ; 



Where, though I, by sour physician, 



Am debarr'd the full fruition 



Of thy favors, I may catch 



Some collateral sweets, and snatch 



Sidelong odors, that give life 



Like glances from a neighbor's wife ; 



And still live in the by-places 



And the suburbs of thy graces , 



And in thy borders take delight 



An unconquer'd Canaanite. 



CHARLES LAMB. 



INSCRIPTION FOR A TOBACCO 

 JAR. 



KEEP me at hand ; and as my fumes arise, 

 You'll find a. jar the gates of Paradise. 



Cope ' s Tobacco Plant. 



