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Smoking Poems

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

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

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

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

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

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

A Brief Puff Of Smoke.
Great Doctor Parr, the learned Whig, Ne'er deemed the ...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...



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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