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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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



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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