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Smoking Poems

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

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

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

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

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

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

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



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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