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Smoking Poems

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

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

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...



MY CIGAR.








In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy,
And for every little pleasure has some pathologic bogy,
Who will bear with no small vices, and grows dismally prophetic
If I wander from the weary way of virtue dietetic;

In spite of dire forewarnings that my brains will all be scattered,
My memory extinguished, and my nervous system shattered,
That my hand will take to trembling, and my heart begin to flutter,
My digestion turn a rebel to my very bread and butter;

As I puff this mild Havana, and its ashes slowly lengthen,
I feel my courage gather and my resolution strengthen:
I will smoke, and I will praise you, my cigar, and I will light you
With tobacco-phobic pamphlets by the learned prigs who fight you!

Let him who has a mistress to her eyebrow write a sonnet,
Let the lover of a lily pen a languid ode upon it;
In such sentimental subjects I'm a Philistine and cynic,
And prefer the inspiration drawn from sources nicotinic.

So I sing of you, dear product of (I trust you are) Havana,
And if there's any question as to how my verses scan, a
Reason is my shyness in the Muses' aid invoking,
As, like other ancient maidens, they perchance object to smoking.

I have learnt with you the wisdom of contemplative quiescence,
While the world is in a ferment of unmeaning effervescence,
That its jar and rush and riot bring no good one-half so sterling
As your fleecy clouds of fragrance that are now about me curling.

So, let stocks go up or downward, and let politicians wrangle,
Let the parsons and philosophers grope in a wordy tangle,
Let those who want them scramble for their dignities or dollars,
Be millionnaires or magnates, or senators or scholars.

I will puff my mild Havana, and I quietly will query,
Whether, when the strife is over, and the combatants are weary,
Their gains will be more brilliant than its faint expiring flashes,
Or more solid than this panful of its dead and sober ashes.

ARTHUR W. GUNDRY.





Next: TO C.F. BRADFORD.

Previous: A POET'S PIPE.



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