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Smoking Poems

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

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

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

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...



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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