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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

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

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

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

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...



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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