THE Indian weed withered quite; Green at morn, cut down at night; Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. And when the smoke ascends on high, Think thou behold'st the vanity Of worldly stuff, gone with a puff: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. But when the pipe grows foul within, Think of thy soul defiled with sin, And that the fire doth it require: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. The ashes, that are left behind, May serve to put thee still in mind That unto dust return thou must: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER GETHSEMANE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LET ME NOT HATE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PERSPECTIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK RUNNER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TIRED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DIPPOLD THE OPTICIAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |