Men may sing of their Havanas, elevating to the stars The real or fancied virtues of their foreign-made cigars; But I worship Nicotina at a different sort of shrine, And she sits enthroned in glory in this corn-cob pipe of mine. It 's as fragrant as the meadows when the clover is in bloom; It' s as dainty as the essence of the daintiest perfume; It 's as sweet as are the orchards when the fruit is hanging ripe, With the sun's warm kiss upon them -- is this corn-cob pipe. Thro' the smoke about it clinging, I delight its form to trace, Like an oriental beauty with a veil upon her face; And my room is dim with vapour as a church when censers sway, As I clasp it to my bosom -- in a figurative way. It consoles me in misfortune and it cheers me in distress, And it proves a warm partaker of my pleasures in success; So I hail it as a symbol, friendship's true and worthy type, And I press my lips devoutly to my corn-cob pipe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MAY HOWARD JACKSON - SCULPTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON AT DOVER CLIFFS, JULY 20, 1787 by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE CITY OF COLOGNE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE WIND AND THE MOON by GEORGE MACDONALD |