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