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Smoking Poems

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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

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

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

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

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

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...



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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