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Smoking Poems

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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



A PIPE OF TOBACCO.








Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale,
Or with alcohol moisten his thrapple,
Only give me, I pray, a good pipe of soft clay,
Nicely tapered and thin in the stapple;
And I shall puff, puff, let who will say, "Enough!"
No luxury else I'm in lack o',
No malice I hoard 'gainst queen, prince, duke, or lord,
While I pull at my pipe of tobacco.

When I feel the hot strife of the battle of life,
And the prospect is aught but enticin',
Mayhap some real ill, like a protested bill,
Dims the sunshine that tinged the horizon:
Only let me puff, puff,--be they ever so rough,
All the sorrows of life I lose track o',
The mists disappear, and the vista is clear,
With a soothing mild pipe of tobacco.

And when joy after pain, like the sun after rain,
Stills the waters, long turbid and troubled,
That life's current may flow with a ruddier glow,
And the sense of enjoyment be doubled,--
Oh! let me puff, puff, till I feel _quantum suff._,
Such luxury still I'm in lack o';
Be joy ever so sweet, it would be incomplete,
Without a good pipe of tobacco.

Should my recreant muse--sometimes apt to refuse
The guidance of bit and of bridle--
Still blankly demur, spite of whip and spur,
Unimpassioned, inconstant, or idle;
Only let me puff, puff, till the brain cries, "Enough!"
Such excitement is all I'm in lack o',
And the poetic vein soon to fancy gives rein,
Inspired by a pipe of tobacco.

And when, with one accord, round the jovial board,
In friendship our bosoms are glowing,
While with toast and with song we the evening prolong,
And with nectar the goblets are flowing;
Still let us puff, puff,--be life smooth, be it rough,
Such enjoyment we're ever in lack o';
The more peace and good-will will abound as we fill
A jolly good pipe of tobacco.

JOHN USHER.





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Previous: ODE TO MY PIPE.



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