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Smoking Poems

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

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

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

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

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

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

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

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

She.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint! Around my pretty...

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



SEASONABLE SWEETS.








"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS.


When the year is young, what sweets are flung
By the violets, hiding, dim,
And the lilac that sways her censers high,
Whilst the skylark chants a hymn!
How sweet is the scent of the daffodil bloom,
When blithe spring decks each spray,
And the flowering thorn sheds rare perfume
Through the beautiful month of May!
What a dainty pet is the mignonette,
Whose sweets wide scattered are!
But sweeter to me than all these yet
Is the scent of a prime cigar!

Delicious airs waft the fields of June,
When the beans are all in flower;
The woodruff is fragrant in the hedge,
And the woodbine in the bower.
Sweet eglantine doth her garlands twine
For the blithe hours as they run,
And balmily sighs the meadow-sweet,
That is all in love with the sun,
Whilst new-mown hay o'er the hedgerows gay
Flings odorous airs afar;
Yet sweeter than these on the passing breeze
Is the scent of a prime cigar.

When all the beauties of Flora's court
Smile on the gay parterre,
What glorious color, what exquisite form,
And dainty scents are there!
They bask in the beam, and bend by the stream,
Like beautiful nymphs at play,
Holding dew-pearls up in each nectar cup
To the glorious God of Day.
Oh, their lives are sweet, but all too brief,
And death doth their sweetness mar;
But fragrance fine is forever thine,
My well-beloved cigar!

C.





Next: GEORDIE TO HIS TOBACCO-PIPE.

Previous: IT MAY BE WEEDS.



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