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Smoking Poems

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...



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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