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Smoking Poems

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

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

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

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

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

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

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

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

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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



LATAKIA.








I.

When all the panes are hung with frost,
Wild wizard-work of silver lace,
I draw my sofa on the rug,
Before the ancient chimney-place.
Upon the painted tiles are mosques
And minarets, and here and there
A blind muezzin lifts his hands,
And calls the faithful unto prayer.
Folded in idle, twilight dreams,
I hear the hemlock chirp and sing,
As if within its ruddy core
It held the happy heart of Spring.
Ferdousi never sang like that,
Nor Saadi grave, nor Hafiz gay;
I lounge, and blow white rings of smoke,
And watch them rise and float away.


II.

The curling wreaths like turbans seem
Of silent slaves that come and go,--
Or Viziers, packed with craft and crime,
Whom I behead from time to time,
With pipe-stem, at a single blow.
And now and then a lingering cloud
Takes gracious form at my desire,
And at my side my lady stands,
Unwinds her veil with snowy hands,--
A shadowy shape, a breath of fire!

O Love, if you were only here
Beside me in this mellow light,
Though all the bitter winds should blow,
And all the ways be choked with snow,
'Twould be a true Arabian night!

T.B. ALDRICH.





Next: MY AFTER-DINNER CLOUD.

Previous: 'TWAS OFF THE BLUE CANARIES.



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