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Smoking Poems

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

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

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

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

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

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



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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