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Smoking Poems

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

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

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

Virginia Tobacco.
Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwel...

Cigarette Rings.
How it blows! How it rains! I'll not turn out to-night; ...

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

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

Envoi.
Smokers, who doubt or con or pro, And ye who dare to...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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



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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