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Smoking Poems

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

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

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

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

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

What I Like.
To lie with half-closed eyes, as in a dream, Upon the ...

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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



PIPE AND TOBACCO.








When my pipe burns bright and clear,
The gods I need not envy here;
And as the smoke fades in the wind,
Our fleeting life it brings to mind.

Noble weed! that comforts life,
And art with calmest pleasures rife;
Heaven grant thee sunshine and warm rain,
And to thy planter health and gain.

Through thee, friend of my solitude,
With hope and patience I'm endued,
Deep sinks thy power within my heart,
And cares and sorrows all depart.

Then let non-smokers rail forever;
Shall their hard words true friends dissever?
Pleasure's too rare to cast away
My pipe, for what the railers say!

When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me,
When friends are fled, thy presence charms me;
If thou art full, though purse be bare,
I smoke, and cast away all care!

_German Folk Song._





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Previous: THE CIGAR.



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