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Smoking Poems

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...



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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