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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...



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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