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Smoking Poems

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...



INGIN SUMMER.








Jest about the time when Fall
Gits to rattlin' in the trees,
An' the man thet knows it all,
'Spicions frost in every breeze,
When a person tells hisse'f
Thet the leaves look mighty thin,
Then thar blows a meller breaf!
Ingin summer's hyere agin.

Kind-uh smoky-lookin' blues
Spins acrost the mountain-side,
An' the heavy mornin' dews
Greens the grass up far an' wide,
Natur' raly 'pears as ef
She wuz layin' off a day,--
Sort-uh drorin in her breaf
'Fore she freezes up to stay.

Nary lick o' work I strike,
'Long about this time of year!
I'm a sort-uh slowly like,
Right when Ingin summer's here.
Wife and boys kin do the work;
But a man with natchel wit,
Like I got, kin 'ford to shirk,
Ef he has a turn for it.

Time when grapes set in to ripe,
All I ast off any man
Is a common co'n-cob pipe
With terbacker to my han';
Then jest loose me whar the air
Simmers 'crost me, wahm an' free!
Promised lands ull find me thar;
Wings ull fahly sprout on me!

I'm a loungin' 'round on thrones,
Bossin' worlds f'om shore to shore,
When I stretch my marrer-bones
Jest outside the cabin door!
An' the sunshine peepin' down
On my old head, bald an' gray,
'Pears right like the gilted crown,
I expect to w'ar some day.

EVA WILDER MCGLASSON.





Next: EDIFYING REFLECTIONS OF A TOBACCO-SMOKER.

Previous: TO SEE HER PIPE AWRY.



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