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Smoking Poems

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

My Friendly Pipe.
Let sybarites still dream delights While smoking cig...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

A Farewell To Tobacco.
May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammeri...

Inscription For A Tobacco Jar.
Keep me at hand; and as my fumes arise, You'll find _a...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

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

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

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...



SMOKE IS THE FOOD OF LOVERS.








When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose
Was just the very one you might suppose.
Love keep a shop?--his trade, oh! quickly name!
A dealer in tobacco--fie, for shame!
No less than true, and set aside all joke,
From oldest time he ever dealt in smoke;
Than smoke, no other thing he sold, or made;
Smoke all the substance of his stock in trade;
His capital all smoke, smoke all his store,
'Twas nothing else; but lovers ask no more--
And thousands enter daily at his door!
Hence it was ever, and it e'er will be
The trade most suited to his faculty:
Fed by the vapors of their heart's desire,
No other food his votaries require;
For that they seek--the favor of the fair--
Is unsubstantial as the smoke and air.

JACOB CATS: _Moral Emblems_.





Next: CLOUDS.

Previous: MY THREE LOVES.



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