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Smoking Poems

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

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

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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



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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