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Smoking Poems

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

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

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



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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