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Smoking Poems

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...



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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