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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

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

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



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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