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Smoking Poems

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

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

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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



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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