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Smoking Poems

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...



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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