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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

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

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...



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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