Pipe and pouch the Smoker's Own Book of Poetry

Pipe and pouch the Smoker's Own Book of Poetry

Mesajde Learned » 22 Apr 2014, 14:57

A poet's pipe am I,
And my Abyssinian tint
Is an unmistakable hint
That he lays me not often by.
When his soul is with grief o'erworn
I smoke like the cottage where
They are cooking the evening fare
For the laborer's return.
I enfold and cradle his soul
In the vapors moving and blue
That mount from my fiery mouth;
And there is power in my bowl
To charm his spirit and soothe,
And heal his weariness too.

O mica colectie de poezi peste care am dat din intamplare, a-m postat un exemplu din carticica. Sper sa va placa.
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