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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

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

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...



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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