The Poetry Corner

Tea's Apologia.

By W. M. MacKeracher

Loved by a host from Noah's days till now, Extolled by bards in many a glowing line, My purple rival of the mantling brow May laugh to scorn this swarthy face of mine. I care not: many a weary pain I cure; Cold, heat and thirst I harmlessly abate; I bless the weak, the aged and the poor; And I have known the favor of the great. I've cheered the minds of mighty poets gone; Philosophers have owned my solace true; Shy Cowper was my sweet Anacreon; Keen Hazlitt craved "whole goblets" of my brew; De Quincey praised my stimulating draught; What cups of me old Doctor Johnson quaffed!