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Smoking Poems

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

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

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

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

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



IF I WERE KING.








If I were king, my pipe should be premier.
The skies of time and chance are seldom clear,
We would inform them all, with bland blue weather.
Delight alone would need to shed a tear,
For dream and deed should war no more together.

Art should aspire, yet ugliness be dear;
Beauty, the shaft, should speed with wit for feather;
And love, sweet love, should never fall to sere,
If I were king.

But politics should find no harbour near;
The Philistine should fear to slip his tether;
Tobacco should be duty free, and beer;
In fact, in room of this, the age of leather,
An age of gold all radiant should appear,
If I were king.

W.E. HENLEY.





Next: THE PIPE YOU MAKE YOURSELF.

Previous: A POT, AND A PIPE OF TOBACCO.



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