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Smoking Poems

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

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

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

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

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

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

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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



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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