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Smoking Poems

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

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

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

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

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

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



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.





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