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Smoking Poems

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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

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

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

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

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...



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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