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Smoking Poems

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...



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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