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Smoking Poems

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

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

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

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

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

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

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...



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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