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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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

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

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

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

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



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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