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Smoking Poems

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

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

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

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

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



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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