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Smoking Poems

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

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

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

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

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

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

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

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

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

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



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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