Passion Flowers (Watson)/A Twist of Tobacco

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A Twist of Tobacco.
From plains of Araby the Blest,Through Inde, the lotus-land of rest,O'er sunny Spain, each on its quest,   The breezes go.
A secret on the pulsing wings,With odors laden'd—wondrous things—Each breeze from haunts elysian brings   Upon its mission.
Now fields of emerald flitting o'er,They loose their rare and precious storeOf spices, sweets, and mystic lore,   Where leaflets wait.
The secret theirs—I may not tell—The crumpled leaves have kept it well;It lies within each dusky cell   So safe enfolded.
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But in the hazy rings that riseAbove the dreamful, tranquil eyesOf him on whom its power lies   May be discerned
Dim outlines of the castles fair,Where dwell magicians of the air,Who grant the gifts the breezes bear   These blessed leaves.
Some secret every heart doth hold,And roses, lilies, violets foldEach with its sweets what hath been told   To it alone.

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