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Smoking Poems

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

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

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...



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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