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Smoking Poems

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

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

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

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



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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