TOBACCO LEAVES 



There are pipes producing sounds divine. 

 Pipes containing luscious wine ; 

 But when I consolation need, 

 I take the pipe that burns the weed. 



All ye who feel oppress'd amidst the strife, 

 The ceaseless wear and strain of busy life ; 

 All ye whose spirits sink beneath the 



weight 



Of dire misfortune, or of adverse fate, 

 Search well within the jar, and you will 



find 



The certain solace for a troubled mind. 

 Use with discretion what is offer'd there, 

 Inhale its fragrance, and forget its care. 

 COPE'S " Tobacco Plant." 



LAST CIGAR 



'TWAS off the blue Canary Isles, 



A glorious summer day, 

 122 



