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Smoking Poems

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...



MEERSCHAUM.








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.





Next: WRONGFELLOW.

Previous: AD NICOTINA.



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