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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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

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

To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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


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.




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