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Smoking Poems

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

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

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

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

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

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



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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