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Smoking Poems

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

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

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

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

A Poet's Pipe.
_FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE._ A poet's pipe...

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

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

A Bachelor's Views.
A pipe, a book, A cosy nook, A fire,--at least ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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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