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Smoking Poems

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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



ASHES.








Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown,
Alone I puff my brier brown,
And watch the ashes settle down
In lambent flashes;
While thro' the blue, thick, curling haze,
I strive with feeble eyes to gaze,
Upon the half-forgotten days
That left but ashes.

Again we wander through the lane,
Beneath the elms and out again,
Across the rippling fields of grain,
Where softly flashes
A slender brook 'mid banks of fern,
At every sigh my pulses burn,
At every thought I slowly turn
And find but ashes.

What made my fingers tremble so,
As you wrapped skeins of worsted snow,
Around them, now with movements slow
And now with dashes?
Maybe 'tis smoke that blinds my eyes,
Maybe a tear within them lies;
But as I puff my pipe there flies
A cloud of ashes.

Perhaps you did not understand,
How lightly flames of love were fanned.
Ah, every thought and wish I've planned
With something clashes!
And yet within my lonely den
Over a pipe, away from men,
I love to throw aside my pen
And stir the ashes.

DE WITT STERRY.





Next: CHOOSING A WIFE BY A PIPE OF TOBACCO.

Previous: IN WREATHS OF SMOKE.



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