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Smoking Poems

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

'twas Off The Blue Canaries.
'Twas off the blue Canary isles, A glorious summer d...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

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

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

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...



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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