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Smoking Poems

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

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

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...

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

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

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

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

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

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...



IN THE OL' TOBACKER PATCH.








I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to do,
When I think about them days we used to spend
A hoein' out tobacker in th' clearin'--me an' you--
An' a wishin' that the day was at an end.
For the dewdrops was a sparklin' on the beeches' tender leaves
As we started out a workin' in the morn;
An' th' noonday sun was sendin' down a shower of burnin' sheaves
When we heard the welcome-soundin' dinner-horn.
An' th' shadders round us gathered in a sort of ghostly batch,
'Fore we started home from workin' in that ol' tobacker patch.

I'm a feelin' mighty lonesome, as I look aroun' to-day,
For I see th' change that's taken place since then.
All th' hills is brown and faded, for th' woods is cleared away;
You an' me has changed from ragged boys to men;
You are livin' in th' city that we ust to dream about;
I am still a dwellin' here upon the place,
But my form is bent an' feeble, which was once so straight and
stout,
An' there's most a thousand wrinkles on my face.
You have made a mint of money; I, perhaps have been your match,
But we both enjoyed life better in that ol' tobacker patch.

S.Q. LAPIUS.





Next: MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.

Previous: HER BROTHER'S CIGARETTE.



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