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Smoking Poems

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

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

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

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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

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

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

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...



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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