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Smoking Poems

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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



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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