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Smoking Poems

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...



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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