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Smoking Poems

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

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

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

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

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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

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

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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



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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