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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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

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

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...



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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