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Smoking Poems

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...



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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