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Smoking Poems

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

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

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



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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