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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

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

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...



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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