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Smoking Poems

The True Leucothoe.
Let others praise the god of wine, Or Venus, love, a...

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

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

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

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

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

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...

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

To C.f. Bradford.
_ON THE GIFT OF A MEERSCHAUM PIPE._ The pipe came safe...

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

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

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

To My Cigar.
The warmth of thy glow, Well-lighted cigar, Makes h...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

Acrostic.
To thee, blest weed, whose sovereign wiles, O'er cankere...

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

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

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

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



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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