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Smoking Poems

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

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

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...



HER BROTHER'S CIGARETTE.








Like raven's wings her locks of jet,
Her soft eyes touched with fond regret,
Doubt and desire her mind beset,
Fondling her brother's cigarette.

Roses with dewy diamonds set,
Drooped o'er the window's parapet;
With grace she turned a match to get,
And lit her brother's cigarette.

Her puffs of smoky violet
Twined in fantastic silhouette;
She blushed, laughed, coughed a little, yet,
She smoked her brother's cigarette.

Her eyes with briny tears were wet,
Her bang grew limp beneath its net,
Her brow was gemmed with beaded sweat,
And to her bed she went, you bet.

ANON.





Next: IN THE OL' TOBACKER PATCH.

Previous: HOW IT ONCE WAS.



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