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Smoking Poems

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

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

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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.





Next: CANNON SONG.

Previous: OLD PIPE OF MINE.



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