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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

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

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



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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