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Smoking Poems

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

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

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

An Encomium On Tobacco.
Thrice happy isles that stole the world's delight, And...

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

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

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

Choosing A Wife By A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Tube, I love thee as my life; By thee I mean to choose...

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

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...



SIC TRANSIT.








Just a note that I found on my table,
By the bills of a year buried o'er,
In a feminine hand and requesting
My presence for tennis at four.

Half remorseful for leaving it lying
In surroundings unworthy as those,
I carefully dusted and smoothed it,
And mutely begged pardon of Rose.

But I thought with a smile of the proverb
Which says you may treat as you will
The vase which has once contained roses,
Their fragrance will cling to it still.

For the writer I scarcely remember,
The occasion has vanished afar,
And the fragrance that clings to the letter
Recalls--an Havana cigar.

W.B. ANDERSON.





Next: THE BETROTHED.

Previous: MY PIPE AND I.



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