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Smoking Poems

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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

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

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

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

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...



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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