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Smoking Poems

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

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



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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