Our evening smoke curls bluer as we read,
The earliest pipe of half-awakened day
Draws a new fragrance from his choicer weed.
His artless puff-balls have a tale to tell,
His Flora opens treasures new and old,
His [way-side weeds] have been our asphodel[3]
His “dandy lines” become our “harmless gold.”[4]
[1]Plato (sixth letter—323 c.) speaks of Elysian or Ellis-i-an scholars “Swearing with scholarly seriousness and with that playfulness which is seriousness’ twin sister.” Thompson’s Gorgias, 41.
[2]See [“Weed,” p. 37].
[3]See [“Weed,” p. 43].