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Smoking Poems

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

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

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

A Warning.
HE. I loathe all books. I hate to see The world a...

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

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

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

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

Ad Nicotina.
"_A CONSTRAINED HYPERBOLE._" Let others sing the prais...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

Her Brother's Cigarette.
Like raven's wings her locks of jet, Her soft eyes tou...

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

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

The Smoke Traveller.
When I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish g...

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

On A Broken Pipe.
Neglected now it lies, a cold clay form, So late with ...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...



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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