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Smoking Poems

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...



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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