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Smoking Poems

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

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

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

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

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



ANOTHER MATCH.








_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._


If love were dhudeen olden,
And I were like the weed,
Oh! we would live together
And love the jolly weather,
And bask in sunshine golden,
Rare pals of choicest breed;
If love were dhudeen olden,
And I were like the weed.

If you were oil essential,
And I were nicotine,
We'd hatch up wicked treason,
And spoil each smoker's reason,
Till he grew penitential,
And turned a bilious green;
If you were oil essential,
And I were nicotine.

If you were snuff, my darling,
And I, your love, the box.
We'd live and sneeze together,
Shut out from all the weather,
And anti-snuffers snarling,
In neckties orthodox;
If you were snuff, my darling,
And I, your love, the box.

If you were the aroma,
And I were simply smoke,
We'd skyward fly together,
As light as any feather;
And flying high as Homer,
His gray old ghost we'd choke;
If you were the aroma,
And I were simply smoke.

From _Cope's Tobacco Plant_.





Next: IN WREATHS OF SMOKE.

Previous: ACROSTIC.



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