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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

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

Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...



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.


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