MY MEERSCHAUM PIPE.





Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe

Thy scarred and blackened form,

For thou to me wilt ever be--

Whate'er betides the storm--

A casket filled with memories

Of life's Auroral morn.



Thou once wert fair like ivory rare;

Spotless as lily white;

Thy curving lines, like tendril'd vines,

Were pleasing to the sight,

And in thine ample bowl there lurked

A promise of delight.



Like incense flung from censer swung

Before some sculptured shrine,

To float along with prayer and song

To realms of bliss divine,--

Ascend thy fragrant wreaths of smoke

And with my thoughts entwine.



Old pipe, old friend, o'er thee doth bend

The rainbow hues of life,

While sorrows roll across my soul,

And peace is turned to strife,

And Faith drifts o'er a sea of doubt

With desolation rife.



Alas, that man or pipe e'er can

Wax old or know decay;

Alas, that heart from heart must part,

Or Love can lose its sway.

And death in life should cast its pall

Athwart the troubled way.



Tho' love be cross'd, and friends are lost,

And severed every tie;

Tho' hopes are dead and joys have fled,

And darkened is the sky;

We yet can warm each other's hearts,

Old meerschaum pipe and I.



JOHNSON M. MUNDY.





MY LITTLE BROWN PIPE. MY MEERSCHAUMS. facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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