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Smoking Poems

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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



A SYMPHONY IN SMOKE.








A pretty, piquant, pouting pet,
Who likes to muse and take her ease,
She loves to smoke a cigarette;

To dream in silken hammockette,
And sing and swing beneath the trees,
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet.

Her Christian name is Violet;
Her eyes are blue as summer skies;
She loves to smoke a cigarette.

As calm as babe in bassinette,
She swingeth in the summer breeze,
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet.

She ponders o'er a novelette;
Her parasol is Japanese;
She loves to smoke a cigarette.

She loves a fume without a fret;
Her frills are white, her frock _cerise_,--
A pretty, pouting, piquant pet.

She almost goes to sleep, and yet,
Half-lulled by booming honey-bees,
She loves to smoke a cigarette.

A winsome, clever, cool coquette,
Who flouts all Grundian decrees,--
pretty, pouting, piquant pet,
That loves to smoke a cigarette.

_Harper's Bazaar_.





Next: IT MAY BE WEEDS.

Previous: A BRIEF PUFF OF SMOKE.



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