T he halved joint is frequently known as half-lapping, and sometimes as checking and half-checking. In the majority of cases it is made by halving the two pieces, i.e., by cutting half the depth of the wood away. There are, however, exceptions ... Read more of The Halved Joint at Wood Workings.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

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

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

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

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

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

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

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

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...



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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