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Smoking Poems

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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



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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