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Smoking Poems

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...



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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