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Smoking Poems

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

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

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

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

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

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

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

Song Of The Smoke-wreaths.
_SUNG TO THE SMOKERS._ Not like clouds that cap the mo...

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

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

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

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

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

My Cigarette.
My cigarette! The amulet That charms afar unrest and...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...



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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