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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...



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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