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Smoking Poems

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...



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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