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Smoking Poems

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

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

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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



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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