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Goodman Tobacco-farmer, you watch them with a will!
Better watching never yet was seen, and it is fruitless still!
Even honest I am robbing you, in every nerve I feel
The delicate Aleccia which I innocently steal.[1]
Neighbour, gently comprehend me—the sticky leaves you keep,
But the odour, friend, is flying free, o'er hill and plain and deep.
Over landward gardens floating, the truant fragrance flies,
Still before you lies your treasure, coffered in your careful eyes.
On the road the snuffing carman drives indolently past.
On the shore the sturdy fisherman stands and delays his cast.
Good neighbour, sack your treasure, take home what yet you may,
But the leaves are all that you can keep, the scent will fly away.
Now, friend Tobacco-farmer, shall I tell thee what I see,
That makes an image in my mind not much unlike to thee?
- ↑ The Aleccia (I do not know if rightly so spelt) is a finer kind of tobacco.
