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Smoking Poems

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

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

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

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

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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

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

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

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...



MY PIPE AND I.








There may be comrades in this world,
As stanch and true as steel.
There are: and by their friendships firm
Is life made only real.
But, after all, of all these hearts
That close with mine entwine,
None lie so near, nor seem so dear
As this old pipe of mine.

My silent friend--whose voice is held
Fast for my ear alone--
Stays with me always, well content,
With Darby to be Joan.
No fickleness disturbs our lot;
No jars its peace to smother;
Ah, no; my faithful pipe and I
Have wooed and won--each other.

On clouds of curling incense sweet,
We go--my pipe and I--
To lands far off, where skies stay blue
Through all the years that fly.
And nights and days, with rosy dreams
Teems bright--an endless throng
That passing leave, in echoing wake,
Soft murmurings of song.

Does this dream fade? Another comes
To fill its place and more.
In castles silvern roam we now,
They're ours! All! All are ours!
What'er the wreathing rings enfold
Drops shimmering golden showers!

No sordid cost our steps can stay,
We travel free as air.
Our wings are fancies, incense-borne,
That feather-light upbear.
Begone! ye powers of steam and flood.
Thy roads creep far too slow;
We need thee not. My pipe and I
Swifter than Time must go.

Why, what is this? The pipe gone out?
Well, well, the fire's out, too!
The dreams are gone--we're poor once more;
Life's pain begins anew.
'Tis time for sleep, my faithful pipe,
But may thy dreamings be,
Through slumbering hours hued as bright
As those thou gav'st to me!

ELTON J. BUCKLEY.





Next: SIC TRANSIT.

Previous: A WINTER EVENING HYMN TO MY FIRE.



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