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Smoking Poems

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

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

Two Other Hearts.
Full tender beamed the light of love down from his manl...

The Cigar.
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far;...

Tobacco.
Let poets rhyme of what they will, Youth, Beauty, Love...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

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

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

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

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

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

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

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

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

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...



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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