Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CHANSON AU TABAC, by MARCUS S. C. RICKARDS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CHANSON AU TABAC, by                    
First Line: Exotic from that west
Last Line: While fancy, from a fragrant clime re-chases care and smart!
Subject(s): Death; Love; Memory; Thought; Dead, The; Thinking


EXOTIC from that West,
Which dawned on one in quest
Of a new Realm whose glories shone on his prophetic mind!
A true Columbus thou,
So potent to endow
Our vext humanity with riches none beside can find.

The stale old world of strife,
And care, and weary life,
Is ours in that prime half of Day which hails from rosy East;
But when in westering skies
Due Phoebus greets our eyes
The soul's horizon seems too strait; she pants to be released,

Released from toil and all
Her narrow earthly thrall,
She seeks an outlet for her store, a playground for her health:
Thou blessed Pioneer
'Tis thine to point and steer
To larger aims, a nobler state, an ampler commonwealth!
Lo! 'tis a glory cloud,
Round him thy fumes enshroud;
Reposing royally, by his imperial purpose crowned.
The hemispheres of Thought
And Effort are now wrought
In such sure wedlock that no room for discontent is found.

Thro' thee the old and new
Are lined in union true;
Calm Memory mingles Morning pressure with Eve's fertile scope.
Their forces interchange,
And languor yields to strange
Activity of brain, and firm resolve, and lofty hope.

Rare virtues in thee dwell
Whose charm remits to hell
Dark devils of despair, and fiends that torture nerves and bones.
And O! thy wizard power
In many a casual hour
To call up sweet illusions that, alas rude Fact disowns!

We scan a wintry world
Whose tempest has just hurled
The last few lingering leaves of some tossed tuneless elm to death:
Thy wand has waved, and now
Blithe birds on budding bough
Their mossy mansions consecrate with Harmony's own breath!

Beneath thy charm, once more,
We roam a dreamy shore
Where pleading waves and plaintive zephyrs chime with Love's soft sighs:
Thy magic spent, forlorn
We can but muse and mourn
O'er broken plight, and vanished bliss, and grey, despairing skies.

On wreaths of final fume
Hope wings her flight and gloom
Sails in, and slowly settling down, broods o'er the lonely heart;
Soon, at thy spell restored,
Return, bright Joy, as lord!
While Fancy, from a fragrant clime re-chases care and smart!





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