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Smoking Poems

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...

My Three Loves.
When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty...

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

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

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

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

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

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

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

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

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

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

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

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

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

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

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

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...



SMOKE AND CHESS.








We were sitting at chess as the sun went down;
And he, from his meerschaum's glossy brown,
With a ring of smoke made his king a crown.

The cherry stem, with its amber tip,
Thoughtfully rested on his lip,
As the goblet's rim from which heroes sip.

And, looking out through the early green,
He called on his patron saint, I ween,--
That misty maiden, Saint Nicotine,--

While ever rested that crown so fair,
Poised in the warm and pulseless air,
On the carven chessman's ivory hair.

Dreamily wandered the game along,
Quietly moving at even-song,
While the striving kings stood firm and strong,

Until that one which of late was crowned
Flinched from a knight's determined bound,
And in sullen majesty left the ground,

Reeling back; and it came to pass
That, waiting to mutter no funeral mass,
A bishop had dealt him the _coup de grace_.

And so, as we sat, we reasoned still
Of fate and of fortune, of human will,
And what are the purposes men fulfil.

For we see at last, when the truth arrives,
The moves on the chess-board of our lives,--
That fields may be lost, though the king survives.

Not always he whom the world reveres
Merits its honor or wins its cheers,
Standing the best at the end of the years.

Not always he who has lost the fight
Rises again with the coming light,
Battles anew for his ancient right.

SAMUEL W. DUFFIELD.





Next: INSCRIPTION FOR A TOBACCO JAR.

Previous: SONG OF THE SMOKE-WREATHS.



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