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Smoking Poems

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

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

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

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

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

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

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

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...


Come to me, O my meerschaum,
For the vile street organs play;
And the torture they're inflicting
Will vanish quite away.

I open my study window
And into the twilight peer,
And my anxious eyes are watching
For the man with my evening beer.

In one hand is the shining pewter,
All amber the ale doth glow;
In t'other are long "churchwardens,"
As spotless and pure as snow.

Ah! what would the world be to us
Tobaccoless?--Fearful bore!
We should dread the day after to-morrow
Worse than the day before.

As the elephant's trunk to the creature,
Is the pipe to the man, I trow;
Useful and meditative
As the cud to the peaceful cow.

So to the world is smoking;
Through that we feel, with bliss
That, whatever worlds come after,
A jolly old world is this.

Come to me, O my meerschaum,
And whisper to me here,
If you like me better than coffee,
Than grog, or the bitter beer.

Oh! what are our biggest winnings,
If peaceful content we miss?
Though fortune may give us an innings
She seldom conveys us bliss.

You're better than all the fortunes
That ever were made or broke;
For a penny will always fill
And buy me content with a smoke.


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