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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

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

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



MY THREE LOVES.








When Life was all a summer day,
And I was under twenty,
Three loves were scattered in my way--
And three at once are plenty.
Three hearts, if offered with a grace,
One thinks not of refusing;
The task in this especial case
Was only that of choosing.
I knew not which to make my pet,--
My pipe, cigar, or cigarette.

To cheer my night or glad my day
My pipe was ever willing;
The meerschaum or the lowly clay
Alike repaid the filling.
Grown men delight in blowing clouds,
As boys in blowing bubbles,
Our cares to puff away in crowds
And vanish all our troubles.
My pipe I nearly made my pet,
Above cigar or cigarette.

A tiny paper, tightly rolled
About some Latakia,
Contains within its magic fold
A mighty _panacea_.
Some thought of sorrow or of strife
At ev'ry whiff will vanish;
And all the scenery of life
Turn picturesquely Spanish.
But still I could not quite forget
Cigar and pipe for cigarette.

To yield an after-dinner puff
O'er _demi-tasse_ and brandy,
No cigarettes are strong enough,
No pipes are ever handy.
However fine may be the feed,
It only moves my laughter
Unless a dry delicious weed
Appears a little after.
A prime cigar I firmly set
Above a pipe or cigarette.

But after all I try in vain
To fetter my opinion;
Since each upon my giddy brain
Has boasted a dominion.
Comparisons I'll not provoke,
Lest _all_ should be offended.
Let this discussion end in smoke
As many more have ended.
And each I'll make a special pet;
My pipe, cigar, and cigarette.

HENRY S. LEIGH.





Next: SMOKE IS THE FOOD OF LOVERS.

Previous: CHOOSING A WIFE BY A PIPE OF TOBACCO.



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