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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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



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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