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Smoking Poems

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

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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

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

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

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...


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
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.




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