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Smoking Poems

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

"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...

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...



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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