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Smoking Poems

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

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

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

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

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

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

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...



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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