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Smoking Poems

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...



A POET'S PIPE.








_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._


A poet's pipe am I,
And my Abyssinian tint
Is an unmistakable hint
That he lays me not often by.
When his soul is with grief o'erworn
I smoke like the cottage where
They are cooking the evening fare
For the laborer's return.

I enfold and cradle his soul
In the vapors moving and blue
That mount from my fiery mouth;
And there is power in my bowl
To charm his spirit and soothe,
And heal his weariness too.

RICHARD HERNE SHEPHERD.





Next: MY CIGAR.

Previous: WITH PIPE AND BOOK.



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