My first was ground beneath the oppressor’s wheel

My first was ground beneath the oppressor’s wheel, Subjected unto barbarous tyrannies; With ears cut off, encaged in netted wire Into a burning fiery furnace thrust. My first take from my second, and my whole Remains. My second is a faithful friend. Gaily with him across the moors I go From morn to dewy eve. I went one day To visit an old man. Beside the fire He sate. His well-loved pipe, made of my whole, He smoked in calm and undisturbed content.