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Smoking Poems

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

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

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

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



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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