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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

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

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

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

A Song Without A Name.
AIR: "_THE VICAR OF BRAY_." 'Twas in Queen Bess's gold...

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...

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

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

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

Meerschaum.
Come to me, O my meerschaum, For the vile street organ...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

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

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...



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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