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Smoking Poems

Effusion By A Cigar Smoker.
Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire, ...

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

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

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

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

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

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

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

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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