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Smoking Poems

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

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

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

My Meerschaums.
Long pipes and short ones, straight and curved, High...

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

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

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

To A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Come, lovely tube, by friendship blest, Belov'd and ...

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

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

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

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

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

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

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

The Lost Lotus.
'Tis said that in the sun-embroidered East, There dw...

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



SMOKING AWAY.








Floating away like the fountains' spray,
Or the snow-white plume of a maiden,
The smoke-wreaths rise to the starlit skies
With blissful fragrance laden.

_Chorus._ Then smoke away till a golden ray
Lights up the dawn of the morrow,
For a cheerful cigar, like a shield, will bar,
The blows of care and sorrow.

The leaf burns bright, like the gems of light
That flash in the braids of Beauty;
It nerves each heart for the hero's part
On the battle-plain of duty.

In the thoughtful gloom of his darkened room,
Sits the child of song and story,
But his heart is light, for his pipe burns bright,
And his dreams are all of glory.

By the blazing fire sits the gray-haired sire,
And infant arras surround him;
And he smiles on all in that quaint old hall,
While the smoke-curls float around him.

In the forest grand of our native land,
When the savage conflict ended,
The "pipe of peace" brought a sweet release
From toil and terror blended.

The dark-eyed train of the maids of Spain
'Neath their arbor shades trip lightly,
And a gleaming cigar, like a new-born star,
In the clasp of their lips burns brightly

It warms the soul like the blushing bowl,
With its rose-red burden streaming,
And drowns it in bliss, like the first warm kiss
From the lips with love-buds teeming.

FRANCIS MILES FINCH.





Next: A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO.

Previous: SUBLIME TOBACCO.



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