1340. If the right cheek burns, some one is speaking well of you; if the left, they are speaking ill of you; if both, they speak well and ill at once. Moisten the finger in the mouth and touch it to the cheek, naming those whom you suspect; the... Read more of Bodily Affections at Superstitions.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

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

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

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

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



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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