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Smoking Poems

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

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

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

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

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

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

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...



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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