. The Forester . MY PIPE Content to dream, with eyes half closed, The smoke from my pipe ascending; Wreathes my head in a mystic cloud, And dulls the cares impending. Through the bluish haze, I see the past. And peer perchance into the morrow: For the nonce Im alone and my truest friend, Gives me surcease from sorrow. Aye, loves may come and loves may go, Suspicion friendships sever, But through weal—through woe, For aye, for no My pipe is my friend forever. 54.

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