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Smoking Poems

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

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

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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



CHIBOUQUE.








At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan,
The pacha in his palace lolls at ease;
Latakieh fumes his sensual palate please,
While round-limbed almees dance near his divan.

Slaves lure away _ennui_ with flowers and fan;
And as his gem-tipped chibouque glows, he sees,
In dreamy trance, those marvellous mysteries
The prophet sings of in the Al-Koran!

Pale, dusk-eyed girls, with sequin-studded hair,
Dart through the opal clouds like agile deer,
With sensuous curves his fancy to provoke,--
Delicious houris, ravishing and fair,
Who to his vague and drowsy mind appear
Like fragrant phantoms arabesqued in smoke!

FRANCIS S. SALTUS.





Next: IN ROTTEN ROW.

Previous: THE PIPE YOU MAKE YOURSELF.



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