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Smoking Poems

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...



A GOOD CIGAR.








Oh, 'tis well and enough,
A whiff or a puff
From the heart of a pipe to get;
And a dainty maid
Or a budding blade
May toy with the cigarette;
But a man, when the time
Of a glorious prime
Dawns forth like a morning star,
Wants the dark-brown bloom
And the sweet perfume
That go with a good cigar.

To lazily float
In a painted boat
On a shimmering morning sea,
Or to flirt with a maid
In the afternoon shade
Seems good enough sport to be;
But the evening hour,
With its subtle power,
Is sweeter and better far,
If joined to the joy,
Devoid of alloy,
That lurks in a good cigar.

When a blanket wet
Is solidly set
O'er hopes prematurely grown;
When ambition is tame,
And energy lame,
And the bloom from the fruit is blown;
When to dance and to dine
With women and wine
Past poverty pleasures are,--
A man's not bereft
Of all peace, if there's left
The joy of a good cigar.

NORRIS BULL.




A glass is good, and a lass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather;
The world is good, and the people are good,
And we're all good fellows together.

JOHN O'KEEFE: _Sprigs of Laurel_, Act ii. sc. i.





Next: MY FRIENDLY PIPE.

Previous: TO A PIPE OF TOBACCO.



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