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Smoking Poems

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

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

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

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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



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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