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Smoking Poems

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

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

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...



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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