THE DREAMER'S PIPE.

Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the dreamer's lip, Fragrant odors from thy bowl Mingling with the dreamer's soul; Curling wreaths of smoke ascending, Comfort sweet with incense blending. Joy and peace and solace sending To the dreamer's heart. Fashioned like a satyr's head, Crowned with fire, glowing red, Quaintly carved and softly sleek As Afric maiden's downy cheek. Comrade of each idle hour In forest shade or leafy bower; Lotus-eaters from thy power Ne'er can break apart. Darkly colored from long use With tobacco's balmy juice From snowy white to ebon turned By the incense daily burned. Laid at night within thy case Of velvet soft—thy resting place— Whence with leering, stained face Daily thou must start,— To soothe the dreamer's every care, To glow and burn and fill the air With thy curling perfume rare: As thou charmest gloom away, With the dreamer rest for aye Friend of youth, and manhood ripe All hail to thee, thou meerschaum pipe!