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Smoking Poems

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

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

Smoking Spiritualized.
The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

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

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

Wrongfellow.
I like cigars Beneath the stars, Upon the water...

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

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

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

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

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

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

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

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

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

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

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



SMOKING SONG.








With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl,
As mist from the waterfall given,
Or the locks that float round beauty's throat
In the whispering air of even.

_Chorus_. Then drown the fears of the coming years,
And the dread of change before us;
The way is sweet to our willing feet,
With the smoke-wreaths twining o'er us.

As the light beams through the ringlets blue,
Will hope beam through our sorrow,
While the gathering wreath of the smoke we breathe
Shuts out the fear of to-morrow.

A magic charm in the evening calm
Calls thought from mem'ry's treasure;
But clear and bright in the liquid light
Are the smoke-called dreams of pleasure.

Then who shall chide, with boasting pride,
Delights they ne'er have tasted?
Oh, let them smile while we beguile
The hour with joys they've wasted.

_College Song._





Next: HOW IT ONCE WAS.

Previous: THE SMOKE TRAVELLER.



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