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Smoking Poems

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

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...



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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