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Smoking Poems

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

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

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

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

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

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...



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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