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Smoking Poems

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...



CANNON SONG.








And it has turned since you and I
Set out to face the world alone;
And, in a garret near the sky,
Had scarce a crust to call our own,
But many a banquet, Barmecide;
And many a dream of hope divine,
Lie buried in the moaning tide,
That drowns the past, old pipe of mine!

But prosing isn't quite the thing,
And so, I guess, I'll give it up:
Just wait a moment while I sing;
We'll have another parting cup,
And then to bed. The stars are low;
Yon sickly moon has ceased to shine;
So here she goes, and off we go
To Slumberland, old pipe of mine!

JOHN J. GORMLEY.





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Previous: OLD PIPE OF MINE.



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