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Smoking Poems

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

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, a...

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

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

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

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...



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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