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Smoking Poems

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...



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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