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Smoking Poems

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

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

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

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....



MY MEERSCHAUMS.








Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved,
High carved and plain, dark-hued and creamy,
Slim tubes for cigarettes reserved,
And stout ones for Havanas dreamy.

This cricket, on an amber spear
Impaled, recalls that golden weather
When love and I, too young to fear
Heartburn, smoked cigarettes together.

And even now--too old to take
The little papered shams for flavor--
I light it oft for her sweet sake
Who gave it, with her girlish favor.

And here's the mighty student bowl
Whose tutoring in and after college
Has led me nearer wisdom's goal
Than all I learned of text-book knowledge.

"It taught me?" Ay, to hold my tongue,
To keep a-light, and yet burn slowly,
To break ill spells around me flung
As with the enchanted whiff of Moly.

This nargileh, whose hue betrays
Perique from soft Louisiana,
In Egypt once beguiled the days
Of Tewfik's dreamy-eyed Sultana.

Speaking of color,--do you know
A maid with eyes as darkly splendid
As are the hues that, rich and slow,
On this Hungarian bowl have blended?

Can artist paint the fiery glints
Of this quaint finger here beside it,
With amber nail,--the lustrous tints,
A thousand Partagas have dyed it?

"And this old silver patched affair?"
Well, sir, that meerschaum has its reasons
For showing marks of time and wear;
For in its smoke through fifty seasons

My grandsire blew his cares away!
And then, when done with life's sojourning,
At seventy-five dropped dead one day,
That pipe between his set teeth burning!

"Killed him?" No doubt! it's apt to kill
In fifty year's incessant using--
Some twenty pipes a day. And still,
On that ripe, well-filled, lifetime musing,

I envy oft so bright a part,--
To live as long as life's a treasure;
To die of--not an aching heart,
But--half a century of pleasure!

Well, well! I'm boring you, no doubt;
How these old memories will undo one--
I see you've let your weed go out;
That's wrong! Here, light yourself a new one!

CHARLES F. LUMMIS.





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