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Smoking Poems

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

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

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

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...



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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