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Smoking Poems

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

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...



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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