Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846, 1833-12-12
{ From the We,c- York Mirror.
TO A CIGAR
BY MYSELF.
[ ny USE Lr.


Whence thy deep magic by changeless power,
Ihronging my heart wnh memories of the dead'
Thy s..oke is as blue and noiseless pnon,
Whereon my weary thoughts do float away; !,
To Gull The flowers in fancy's wild dominion,
Which bloom still beautiful above decay.
Thou mak'st me linger in the lighted halls,
In the rich gardens of the olden time,
When the soft -plendor of the evening falls.
To gild the leaflets Of the bending lime;
Thou mak'st mine ear to catch the music tone,
Which aye came forth at the still hour Of even;
When earth aud sea were quiet and alone,
Fond girls roaued out to speak of love & Heaven.
Gentleman reader, do you smoke do
you indulge in cigars which are the
poetry Of tobacco" If you do not, pause
here; none save the initiated, will apprc-
cate my feelings The dinner is over,
ceased the rafting of dishes, the SER
wants are no longer moving, the final
compliment is uttered, the hand of my
fair neighbor is pressed for the filticth
and last time, and | am alone. What a
luxury! have taken my cigar-a dark
rich lIabana, (my friend imported. some
expressly for me, sprinkled with yellow
as night is with stars the quiet smoke
has been curling slowly and unconscious
ly around me in every fashion, (there,
there goes a perfect WREATH and now,
as the last volume issues, it rests above
me in blue and beautiful tract. How
calm! it hangs over me like presence.
Did say | was alone am not that
light cloud is companion a world,
wherein l gaze on strange and ian.iiul
creatures, while the dreams of dreary
hours, and early hopes, come thronging
in upon me. Listen, do you hear that
music?-How melting 1t is the air Of a
, song once warbled to me, by a most
dainty and delicate maiden what mat
ters it. Her rose-leaf lips are pale in
the grave, and the vile newt is banquet
: ing on them Why do the "pure in
spirit'' so often pass away, fading like q
I line of cloud into the blue Of Heaven
: while the "gruy in crime" are suffered
to 'grow gray in years." and cumber
earth with their presence ? | used to
wander with -, at twilight, through
the dim aisles Of the forest, studying the
, nature of some pleasant plant, which
s started in the solitude: or gazing on some
q distant scene, where the rich yellow OF
P the snndown fell She was creature
:, Of feeling; read Byron and Shelley will
d passion Saw poetry in flower stem
: or piece Of cloud, and would for hour:
n enrich me with the gems which senti
$ ment brought up from the ocean depth.
l<>fh / L h,l
1t till saw her-those were blessed days
e but they live only in memory now.
l. All! there is my home Look al
'r with its trailing vines and tinted flower:
ir all as they used to be and there is m
n sisters favorite garden, with ITS low tor
o. ed fountain and bright parterre, and tn
'y very arbour | built for her with my ow
&c hands. How often have we fingered j
n: it, while the day stole off with noiseles
v loots,ep through the rosy portals Of tn
e., west.-Thcre, as her afiectionate arr
OF rested on my neck, or her fingers stmre
in my hair, would she speak with all tn
eloquencc of soul and eye, about the tr
IT. ais and temptations Of the great world
l. How the heart would be scared and ii
L. feeling bIighted; rainbow dreams 81
N, said would turn to tears, and l shou
hc find nothing but dross when my goldt
OF hopes had been melted and tried in u
at cruciblc Of afiliction. Dear, dear gil
" she loved me, and udores me still; yet
ur have left my home, father, mother, he
" The sun-bright air is sleeping over maj
a hill between myself and them, and (
in years to come, | may not see them, n
'as hear the tone OF their familiar voices, n
he sit as | used TO sit beside the househo
ny hearth. Oh what will we not do
ice fame Ambition stands upon the worlt
es, high places, and calls us TO her gorgeC
her temples; the brain grows wild by gazi
di- upward, and on we madly dash, tran
ON led are the sweet flowers which flour
ge, by the way side we neither mark
ION brilliancy Of their colors, nor the p
Inc, fume which is floating from their brui:
red and broken leaves. Will see char
nm when return Alas! that word il W
tbe ten on all beneath the sun. The ten
'''e- giTl . lcn just budding into wonanho
a'', may witt the dignity of matron, gr
t. me; the buoyancy of her step may
the departed; the brillance of her dark @
cen dimmed; the sunlight Of her spirit clio
ore, ed. My mother, pcrchancc tie maj
hen Of death may be folded around !
ttier whose care in sickness and sorrow,
o. KEEP, my weary form so long on ear
iore The chill clods of the valley may
press a bosom, whose fondest feel
'cter gushed for her departed son.-And
mIrc father, will he be the same His ra
4 his locks is s,ivered, and ere long pei