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Smoking Poems

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

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

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

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

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

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

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

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

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

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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



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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