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Smoking Poems

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

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

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

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...



A WARNING.








HE.

I loathe all books. I hate to see
The world and men through others' eyes;
My own are good enough for me.
These scribbling fellows I despise;
They bore me.
I used to try to read a bit,
But, when I did, a sleepy fit
Came o'er me.

Yet here I sit with pensive look,
Filling my pipe with fragrant loads,
Gazing in rapture at a book!--
A free translation of the Odes
Of Horace.
'Tis owned by sweet Elizabeth,
And breathes a subtle, fragrant breath
Of orris.

I longed for something that was hers
To cheer me when I'm feeling low;
I saw this book of paltry verse,
And asked to take it home--and so
She lent it.
I love her deep and tenderly,
Yet dare not tell my love, lest she
Resent it.

I'll learn to quote a stanza here,
A couplet there. I'm very sure
'Twould aid my suit could I appear
_Au fait_ in books and literature.
I'll do it!
This jingle I can quickly learn;
Then, hid in roses, I'll return
Her poet!





Next: SHE.

Previous: MY MEERSCHAUM PIPE.



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