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Smoking Poems

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

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...



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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