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Smoking Poems

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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

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

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

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

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

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

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

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

An Ode Of Thanks For Certain Cigars.
_TO CHARLES ELIOT NORTON._ Luck, my dear Norton, still...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

In Favor Of Tobacco.
Much victuals serves for gluttony To fatten men like s...

Another Match.
_AFTER A.C. SWINBURNE._ If love were dhudeen olden, ...

Ode To Tobacco.
Thou, who when fears attack Bidst them avaunt, and Bla...

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

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



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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