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Smoking Poems

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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

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

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...



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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