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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...



MY FRIENDLY PIPE.








Let sybarites still dream delights
While smoking cigarettes,
Whose opiates get in their pates
Till waking brings regrets;
Oh, let them doze, devoid of woes,
Of troubles, and of frets.

And let the chap who loves to nap
With his cigar in hand
Pursue his way, and live his day,
As runs time's changing sand;
Let him delight by day and night
In his peculiar brand.

But as for me, I love to be
Provided with a pipe,--
A rare old bowl to warm my soul,
A meerschaum brown and ripe,--
With good plug cut, no stump or butt,
Nor filthy gutter-snipe.

My joys increase! It brings me peace
As nothing else can do;
From all the strife of daily life
Here my relief is true.
I watch its rings; it purrs and sings--
And then it's cheaper, too!

_Detroit Tribune_.





Next: ODE TO TOBACCO.

Previous: A GOOD CIGAR.



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