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Smoking Poems

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

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

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



MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.








I beg you come to-night and dine.
A welcome waits you, and sound wine,--
The Roederer chilly to a charm,
As Juno's breath the claret warm,
The sherry of an ancient brand.
No Persian pomp, you understand,--
A soup, a fish, two meats, and then
A salad fit for aldermen
(When aldermen, alas the days!
Were really worth their _mayonnaise_);
A dish of grapes whose clusters won
Their bronze in Carolinian sun;
Next, cheese--for you the Neufchatel,
A bit of Cheshire likes me well;
Cafe au lait or coffee black,
With Kirsch or Kuemmel or cognac
(The German band in Irving Place
By this time purple in the face);
Cigars and pipes. These being through,
Friends shall drop in, a very few--
Shakespeare and Milton, and no more.
When these are guests I bolt the door,
With "Not at home" to any one
Excepting Alfred Tennyson.

ANON.





Next: TO MY MEERSCHAUM.

Previous: IN THE OL' TOBACKER PATCH.



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