Whene'er I fragrant coffee drink, <br />I on the generous Frenchman think, <br />Whose noble perseverance bore <br />The tree to Martinico's shore. <br />While yet her colony was new, <br />Her island products but a few, <br />Two shoots from off a coffee-tree <br />He carried with him o'er the sea. <br />Each little tender coffee slip <br />He waters daily in the ship, <br />And as he tends his embryo trees, <br />Feels he is raising midst the seas <br />Coffee groves, whose ample shade <br />Shall screen the dark Creolian maid. <br />But soon, alas! his darling pleasure <br />In watching this his precious treasure <br />Is like to fade,-for water fails <br />On board the ship in which he sails. <br />Now all the reservoirs are shut, <br />The crew on short allowance put; <br />So small a drop is each man's share, <br />Few leavings you may think there are <br />To water these poor coffee plants;- <br />But he supplies their gasping wants, <br />Even from his own dry parchëd lips <br />He spares it for his coffee slips. <br />Water he gives his nurslings first, <br />Ere he allays his own deep thirst <br />Lest, if he first the water sip, <br />He bear too far his eager lip. <br />He sees them droop for want of more;- <br />Yet when they reach the destined shore, <br />With pride the heroic gardener sees <br />A living sap still in his trees. <br />The islanders his praise resound; <br />Coffee plantations rise around; <br />And Martinico loads her ships <br />With produce from those dear-saved slips.<br /><br />Charles Lamb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-coffee-slips/
