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Smoking Poems

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

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

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

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

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

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

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

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

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

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

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



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!



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