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Smoking Poems

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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

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

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

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

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

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

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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



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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