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Smoking Poems

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

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

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

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

Smoke And Chess.
We were sitting at chess as the sun went down; And he,...

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

Chibouque.
At Yeni-Djami, after Rhamadan, The pacha in his pala...

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

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

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...



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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