POETRY OF SMOKE 

 AN OLD PIPE 



OLD mined pipe, that all would cast aside, 

 Nor give thy fate a single transient 



thought, 

 To me with tender memories thou art 



fraught, 



Recalling those brief days of happy pride 

 When my sweet Lady wandered by my side 

 Through life's strange ways, and always 



unbesought 

 Came rapturous joys no wealth had ever 



bought, 



And I each day by love was deified. 

 For once, I mind it well, in playful vein, 

 She filled thee with the fragrant honeyed 



weed, 

 110 



