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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

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

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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



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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