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Smoking Poems

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

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

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

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

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

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



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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