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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

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

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

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

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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



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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