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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

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

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...



IN WREATHS OF SMOKE.








In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise,
Faces of olden days uprise,
And in his dreamers revery
They haunt the smoker's brain, and he
Breathes for the past regretful sighs.

Mem'ries of maids, with azure eyes,
In dewy dells, 'neath June's soft skies,
Faces that more he'll only see
In wreaths of smoke.

Eheu, eheu! how fast Time flies,--
How youth-time passion droops and dies,
And all the countless visions flee!
How worn would all those faces be,
Were they not swathed in soft disguise
In wreaths of smoke!

FRANK NEWTON HOLMAN.





Next: ASHES.

Previous: ANOTHER MATCH.



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